Fidelius
by CreativeWords
Summary: It was a marriage of necessity, both ordered and ended by the Dark Lord. But when the Second Wizarding War begins and Severus Snape finds himself face to face with the wife he thought to be dead, will their combined secrets destroy the Order?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not, and never will own these characters (well, except for the ones I made up), so thanks a million to J.K. Rowling for letting me borrow them for a little while.

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She stirred in her sleep, half-reaching out to the other side of the bed. Her fingers touched only the coolness of smooth sheets, coolness that suggested he had long been absent from her side. It was not surprise, rather resignation that forced open Treasa's eyes.

"Severus?"

It was folly to call out for him. She knew he would not answer even were he still in the manor. The Dark Lord often summoned him in the wee hours of the morning, and on the rare occasions he was allowed a full night's sleep, his own restlessness called him from their chamber.

A muted _crack_ from the hall announced his return. Whatever else Severus was, he was fastidiously courteous enough to refrain from Apparating into the room while she slept_. _ Or perhaps it was merely that he hoped to escape her presence for a few moments more. Since her residence in Snape Manor, his manner had chilled to the point of near-neglect, except for the habitual civilities that made her feel as if she were some visiting dignitary he disliked.

_Potions_.

The fact that Severus had not yet returned to the room meant only one thing – the Dark Lord had been displeased with something. The after-effects of a Cruciatus were cruelly debilitating. Treasa threw back the covers, flinching only slightly as her feet hit the cold stone floor. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and headed for the cabinet in the far corner, by the window.

"Lumos."

She had yet to open this cabinet on her own. Severus guarded it with a jealousy that almost frightened her. His potions, it seemed, were as sacred as the rest of him – something he shared with no one, no matter the reason. Even so, it hadn't taken long for her to learn the color and consistency of the potions he administered after a visit to his master, and she had no doubt he would need the full cocktail tonight. The thick, deep red pain-cloaking Burning Bitterroot, the pale orange Strengthening Solution, and the tiny, purple vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. Severus could not afford to take a full dosage of the last for fear he might not heed the Dark Lord's call should he be summoned, but he did not deny himself a few hours of oblivion after such a gathering.

She sighed as she searched through the bottles for another dose of Burning Bitterroot, flipping a length of auburn hair out of her eyes. Severus had aged decades in the last year. It was hard to remember the unlined face of the 19-year-old she had known just a few months ago.

Treasa clutched the bottles as she padded back across the room. Should she go to him? The last time sympathy had overcome her fear, he had ordered her away with enough venom to rival a basilisk, wand clutched threateningly in a dead-white hand. She pressed her ear against the door, listening for a hint of his whereabouts. She had heard nothing to tell her he had gone downstairs to his laboratory. She shifted the bottles, struggling to maintain her grasp on her wand. As the silence lingered, she risked opening the door a little to peek out.

Severus Snape lay sprawled in the hallway a few feet from the door, one arm curled against his abdomen as if to shield himself from further pain. The other hand was futilely digging into the carpet, either to anchor himself or inch closer to the door, Treasa could not tell. His eyes were clenched shut, his face ghostly white in the wan beam cast by her wand.

She could see his lips moving, and guessed before the strained whisper passed his lips what he was saying.

"L-Lily."

"Severus?" She ventured.

His eyes jerked open at the sound of her voice, something remarkably like panic darting across his face before he shuttered it completely. Not for the first time, Treasa cursed his abilities as an Occlumens. Merlin, as if getting to know the man wasn't difficult enough. With an effort that sent a sick feeling through her chest, Severus drew himself into a standing position, one hand braced casually against the wall.

"Sorry to have disturbed you," he bit out, his voice coldly polite.

"I-I've brought your potions." Treasa thrust the bottles toward him, the tiny vial of Dreamless Sleep slipping through her fingers.

His reflexes were still good enough for him to flick his wand at the falling bottle and levitate it to a height he could grasp.

"Thank you, my dear."

The endearment almost made Treasa laugh at the absurdity of it. She was less dear to him than she ever had been, less important than those bottles she had handed over. Indeed, he clutched them with a fervor she had never sensed toward herself.

"If you'll forgive me, I shall take these to the dungeons. I have an urgent mission from the Dark Lord that requires I begin preparations immediately."

"But-" Treasa bit her lip as he turned, impatience shrouding his drooping shoulders. "Severus, surely you need rest after…"

The dull glint of deadened humor appeared in his eyes. "I thank you for your concern, but I assure you I am perfectly capable of fulfilling my duties. If I feel too fatigued, I shall take your suggestion."

This time she held her tongue as he walked away. Her eyes followed him as far as the wand light allowed, cursing the pang to her heart. Just one more reason for her to despise and thank the Dark Lord. Were it not for Voldemort, Severus Snape would not be her husband.


	2. Chapter 1: Morsmordre

"You are late, Death Eater."

It had been thirteen years since he had heard that voice, and the malice in the high, cold tones did nothing to calm the hot strands of panic pulsating through his limbs. He thought he was ready, but the sight of the Dark Lord nearly had Severus Snape apparating back to Hogwarts.

He knelt, head bowed, forcing his traitorous muscles to remain still. "I crave your pardon, my lord. My reason for delay was in your service, as ever."

He could almost hear the _Crucio_ in the dank, close air of the cemetery, but Voldemort was silent. Severus watched him pace in front of the Riddle gravestone, heart slowing to its usual, measured beat. Peter Pettigrew, the nasty, simpering boy, knelt to his right, clutching at a shiny object that seemed to have taken the place of his fleshly hand. Snape shifted his gaze a little further and found Lucius Malfoy regarding the whole scene with an unholy joy. He could not remember the last time he had seen the pale, pointed face so eager. Was his old friend glad he had come at last or eager to see him punished?

He was not yet dead, which spoke highly of his chances of survival. The Dark Lord did not hesitate when execution was deemed necessary.

"What could you have been doing in my service that kept you at Albus Dumbledore's side instead of mine?"

Severus forced himself to meet the red eyes boring into his, invoking his strongest occlumens shields. This was the crucial moment. "Continuing the position to which you ordered me, my lord. Will you not have need of a spy at Hogwarts as you did before?"

He could feel Voldemort enter his mind, sifting through the carefully selected memories Severus made available. He had forgotten the formidable power of Voldemort's legilimency. The shields wavered against the force. Snape schooled his face into a calm mask, forcing all of his energy into protecting those memories – things he dared not let Voldemort see.

The link was severed.

"Very well."

It was impossible to tell if those two words signaled approval or anger. All Snape knew was the terrible pressure in his temples had abated. There was an almost lazy line to Voldemort's body as he resumed his pacing. He paused next to his father's grave and turned to Snape, smiling as much as his lipless mouth would allow.

"_Crucio._"

Snape's muscles curled into an all-too-familiar fetal position as the pain snaked through his limbs. He ground his teeth, willing himself not to cry out as it stabbed red-hot through his bones. _Focus, Severus. _The thought blurred as a cry forced itself from his throat.

The pain stopped. Panting, Snape braced himself on shaky arms, allowing a few thundering heartbeats to pass before raising his eyes again. He should count himself fortunate. In the old days, he would not have fared so well.

"My lord," he said penitently.

"Up, up my old friend," Voldemort said easily, anger appeased for the moment. "We have much to talk of, you and I."

Snape stood, feeling Lucius draw near. He had fooled Lucius often enough over the last decade, but the man's cunning seemed to have sharpened in the presence of their master. He was reminded of his first year at Hogwarts, when he first found himself under the watchful eye of the Slytherin prefect. Had Lucius been re-assigned his old role of watchdog?

"Come, Severus," Snape controlled his recoil at the use of his first name by his old master. "What can you tell me of Potter?"

"The boy spends his summers with relatives – Dumbledore has never confided their location to me, but he has said it is because of the protective wards granted by blood relations." _You will have no chance to harm him further until the summer ends._

"But I have taken his blood. His mother's sacrifice now also extends protection to myself."

"Protection, yes, my lord, but not immunity to the wards already in place," Snape reminded. "If you were to approach the boy with the intent to harm him, it would be as before. You must bide your time, gather strength. Potter can be dealt with when the time is right." It was difficult to completely mask the triumph he felt when he saw the futile anger on Voldemort's face. Lily had won again, it seemed.

Voldemort hissed in a breath. "Very well, tell me of his time at school. What opportunities may present themselves?"

Snape let one side of his mouth curl up in a sardonic smile. "The boy is as defenseless as a flobberworm. He and his Gryffindor associates frequently sneak out of the castle and venture where he is forbidden to go. The rules are of less interest to the brat than his homework. I daresay if he would devote some of that time to study, he would find himself –"

"I'm not interested in his O.W.L. prospects, Death Eater," Voldemort interrupted, eyeing him critically. "Perhaps you have been at Hogwarts a little too long. "

Lucius hurried forward, clearly anxious to provide something of value. "My lord, Draco tells me Potter is something of a favorite with the headmaster. We might be able to use that connection to destroy both of them."

"Forgive me, Malfoy, but wouldn't Potter's closeness to Dumbledore hinder our plans rather than help them?" Snape said coldly. He turned to Voldemort, "I would suggest, rather, that you spend the interim of the summer to create doubts in Potter's mind. He dislikes spending the summer away from the wizarding world. That malcontent should provide ample opportunities for you to work, my lord."

Something resembling a laugh came from Voldemort. "Ah yes, my faithful, devious Snape."

Lucius backed away at Voldemort's imperious hand flick, his pale eyes narrowed on Snape. Severus focused on the Dark Lord, repulsed and yet fascinated by the odd, somehow less-than-human form to which he had resurrected. It was a level of Dark Magic he had yet to encounter. Was it because he had not a complete soul to encase that the body was so warped? Or was it merely the form the incantation conjured?

_Focus, Severus. Now is not the time._ The fascination would never die, but he could at least control it.

"Tell me, Severus, does the boy remind you of his mother?"

Only the instinctive invocation of occlumency saved him from a disastrous betrayal. "Only slightly, my lord," Snape said, forcing his shoulders remain loose and relaxed. "There is much more of his idiot father in him, I daresay."

Voldemort was watching him closely. Severus recognized that calculating gleam. "At least he favors the pureblood side. But then, you always had a weak spot for the mudblood, didn't you? Even after I provided you with a worthy substitute."

"I never questioned your choice for me, my lord." Severus managed, quivering with the force of his concentration. "Neither your choice for me to wed, nor your punishment of Treasa's betrayal."

"Yes, and that's what worries me, Snape." The red eyes were piercing. "For you _did_ question when it came to Lily Evans."

******

_Author's Note: This is my first HP fanfic, so I look forward to lots of advice to make it even better. Hope you are enjoying it so far. Thanks so much for reading!_


	3. Chapter 2: Lumos

Chapter 2 – Lumos

The ward was quiet for the most part. The fourth floor of St. Mungo's rarely saw many visitors, and since Tilda Harlowe's disastrous Animagus attempt had finally been corrected, the halls were free of the incessant cries of a peacock. For now, it was just the rather inane babblings of Gilderoy Lockhart that disturbed the quiet.

Treasa Shannon pulled the curtains closed around Arabelle Droikson, flicking her wand at the blanket so it straightened to cover the three tentacles where her feet should have been. The poor dear seemed to be resting better now that she was settled in. Now she just needed to check in on the Longbottoms before going up a floor for her tea break.

She had been working at St. Mungo's for eight months, and still she hesitated before walking to the end of the ward. The sight of their wan, lined faces brought back memories – memories she hid even from herself.

Alice was happily disassembling Chocolate Frog boxes. She loved the shine of the gold foil, and Treasa had left word with the other healers not to take away her pile of haphazardly folded pieces. It was perhaps the one thing, aside from her son's visits on holidays, that she seemed truly aware of.

"Frank, enjoying the sun, are ya?" Treasa asked, her tone brisk and steady despite Irish brogue that somehow seemed to intensify when she was around the Longbottoms.

She bustled over to the window, adjusting the shade so the patch of sunlight fell across the bed, not Frank's face. She could have used her wand, but her years in Muggle healing had taught her that some things were simply better done by hand. Frank smiled, nodding his thanks. He rarely spoke, but in the last few months, she had reached the point of understanding the little head bobs and hand movements that served as his primary mode of communication.

"I expect you'll be havin' company sometime next week. Hogwarts holidays start this weekend, right?"

"Indeed, Miss Shannon," answered a voice from behind her. "I didn't expect that you would remember that all these years later."

She whirled around in surprise, mind flashing back sixteen years. The man who stood before her hadn't changed in the slightest. "Professor Dumbledore! 'Tisn't often we see you at St. Mungo's. .. And as for the holidays – you'd be hard-pressed to find a witch or wizard in the country who couldn't tell you the date Hogwarts summer holidays begin. 'Tis something easier remembered than the dates of the Giant Wars, for certain."

"Ever the ready wit," Dumbledore acknowledged, smiling at her over his half-moon spectacles. His eyes were twinkling merrily. "Though, as I recall, you didn't have much trouble remembering the Giant Wars, either."

Treasa shrugged her assent. Alice had run out of boxes to tear apart and had started on folding them into odd, lopsided shapes. The silence lengthened. Dumbledore didn't seem impatient – in fact, he had the air of a man who was quite patiently waiting for something. Treasa's eyes flitted between the two Longbottoms, then back to the headmaster. With a jolt of embarrassment, she stepped away from the beds.

"Oh, and here I stand when you've come visiting! I'll go take my tea break and you can just –"

"You mistake me, Miss Shannon," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand to stop her exit, though his eyes were still twinkling. "Though I do plan to spend some time with Frank and Alice, my primary reason for coming to this ward is to see you."

Confusion cooled the beginnings of the blush on her cheek. "What would you be needin' me for?"

"I believe you mentioned tea," Dumbledore said lightly. "I could most certainly do with a cup myself. Would you care to discuss our business over some crumpets?"

_No, I'd care for you to explain yourself. _ Were it any other wizard than Albus Dumbledore, Treasa would have said just that. Still, the Hogwarts headmaster had a way about him that made a body go along with whatever he suggested. They left the ward and walked up the flight of stairs to the top floor in a silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable.

Treasa had been back in England for less than a year, and despite over a decade of calm, the reasons for her flight were still fresh in her mind. Dumbledore represented a portion of her life she had gone to great lengths to Obliviate from her memory.

The silence continued until the tea had been poured. The tea shop was deserted at this hour of the morning, and the pair found themselves seated at a secluded table hidden by several large plants. Treasa was willing to wager three Galleons it was at Dumbledore's request.

"I understand you were once associated with the Death Eaters, Miss Shannon."

Never let it be said that Albus Dumbledore failed to impress with his oratory skills. Treasa controlled an involuntary lurch, steadying the teacup in her hands. "And if I was, Professor? That trouble is years behind us now."

He chuckled, eyes twinkling as merrily as always. "True Ravenclaw. Discretion is the better part of valor."

She raised one eyebrow at him, stifling her annoyance. She coolly reached for the sugar tongs, extracting two cubes from the bowl with vicious accuracy. It was, after all, the headmaster who was riling her Irish temper. He deserved her hard-cultivated self control.

"Very well, Miss Shannon, I'll rephrase. I am aware that your parents were avid supporters of Voldemort-" she recoiled despite herself at the name "- during his rise to power. My sources inform me you were close with several prominent Death Eaters. Narcissa Malfoy is your second cousin, I believe?"

That, at least, was safe to answer. "Yes, on Mum's side."

"Very good. My sources, however, do not indicate whether you yourself were a Death Eater. Your prolonged absence from the country must, of course, point to your guilt, but I believe…" he paused, those twinkling eyes suddenly piercing, "I believe otherwise."

"Do you? Well, I thank you for your confidence, Headmaster, but if you don't mind my asking – why are you telling me about myself?"

Though he smiled, there was something about the professor's demeanor that changed. Suddenly he looked very old, something Dumbledore could rarely be accused of, even with the waist-length beard. "Because, Miss Shannon, Lord Voldemort has returned."

For one horrid moment, she was 18 again, quivering under the glare of the Dark Lord as her parents beamed. Treasa could feel the blood draining from her face, but she forced her voice to remain steady. "What proof do you have?"

"Cedric Diggory's body."

Dumbledore's stark reply rocked her back in her seat. She had read the newspaper accounts of the Hufflepuff's tragic death, but all the articles placed the blame on the Triwizard tournament. "You mean… the Dark Lord…"

"He has resurrected to human form. I have no doubt that he will soon be recruiting for a second war, which is why we must do the same."

"_We_, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Shannon. If you are willing, I have a position for you with the Order of the Phoenix."


	4. Chapter 3: Stupefy

_Of all the slime pits to choose for headquarters… _

Snape sank his left incisor into his lower lip with the same precision he used when slicing boomslang skin. He had about the same amount of practice at each. In Snape's experience, few things checked unwanted hasty words like the threat of puncturing skin. Dumbledore stood by his side, surveying the front stoop of Number 12 Grimmauld Place with obvious complacent satisfaction. Severus closed his eyes to roll them undetected. Telling his employer and leader that he disapproved of the headquarters was simply not good strategy.

"It's perfect."

_Well done, Severus. _Snape did his best to force his features into something resembling agreement as Dumbledore turned to him, still nodding at his own statement. The grimace didn't fool the older wizard, but Snape hadn't exactly expected it to. He offered his most logical objection.

"The street is a busy one. Even the densest muggles are likely to become suspicious when people start appearing and disappearing between Number 11 and Number 13."

Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed, Severus? I would have thought better of your ingenuity than that."

The incisor bit deeper into the sensitive flesh of his lip, reminding him to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, Dumbledore's willingness to be criticized made it all too easy to override his caution. "Think less of my manners, then, and don't expect me to stay a moment longer than necessary under Black's roof."

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened for an instant, then softened just as suddenly. "It was not he who betrayed the Potters, Severus. You know that now."

Yes, but that was only the last in a long line of offenses to be laid at Sirius Black's door – quite literally, in this case. And twelve years of anger were hard to dissipate on the simple word of another. Severus nodded stiffly and followed Dumbledore up the walk.

The door opened a split second after Dumbledore rang the bell. The raucous screech of a woman's voice greeted them even as Remus Lupin motioned them inside.

'Traitors! Trespassers! Besmirching my name, filthy wretches! Soiling the carpet just with your presence, you scum!"

"Sorry about that," Lupin tossed over his shoulder as he hurried to a portrait hanging a few feet away. The dour woman in the picture was the one doing the screeching. "We're going to have to find another way to announce our presence. Old Mrs. Black here doesn't take kindly to the new company her son is keeping."

"New company!" the portrait shrieked. "That traitor has been no son of mine for years – ever since he went into Gryffindor and met the other blood traitors." The portrait seemed to have calmed down as she talked, but suddenly her voice jumped an octave as Lupin struggled to close the curtain. "Werewolves and blood traitors and criminals. What next? Mudbloods in my house?"

Severus flinched before he could stop himself. "Don't use that word!" He bit out, scowling at the portrait.

"A hand, if you please, Severus?" Lupin asked between pants, still wrestling with one half of the curtain. "We've already discovered it takes two of us to get her to be quiet."

Snape grasped the other side of the curtains, relishing her look of outrage as he jerked it over her face. At least now he knew where Black had gotten his sharp tongue. As the diatribe faded behind the heavy material, he got a chance to look about the hallway. He had not been far wrong in his estimation from the street. The Black family manor was in shambles. A layer of dirt coated everything with a gray tinge and the air stank of mold and decay. It was almost a triumph to behold.

"Are the other members here already, Remus?" Dumbledore asked as the portrait quieted down.

"Most of them. Moody said he might be late because he didn't want to arrive with a crowd, and I don't think Kingsley Shacklebolt can be here until much later, so we'd best start without him."

They followed Lupin into the kitchen, where the filth had at least been combatted to a reasonable level. The room was crowded with the Order of the Phoenix. Snape nodded curtly to Arthur Weasley on his right as Dumbledore warmly shook hands with Lupin, and Minerva McGonagall on his left. There were several other people further back in the kitchen, but Severus had no interest in speaking to any of them. Somewhere back there was Black himself, and the moment of their meeting again could be postponed to doomsday, as far as Snape was concerned.

He edged into the room, finding an empty space by the fireplace where he could lean against the wall undetected. His eyes darted about, picking up impressions, details of the gathering. He could store some up as innocuous memories to grant to Voldemort. There was little tension in the air, he noticed, at least not between those gathered. Quite a change from the Death Eater meetings were everyone seemed determined to take down his or her neighbor. There were platters of bread and cheese, and what appeared to be a few jugs of pumpkin juice on the long wooden table. The smells of a savory stew came from the other end of the room. Severus suspected Molly Weasley's hand. His stomach tightened. _Oh no, Severus. You will not be eating under Sirius Black's roof._

On the end of the table closest to him, a wand lay forgotten by a tray of goblets emblazoned with the Black family crest. His gaze sharpened on the object, impatient at whoever had been so foolish as to leave their wand. It wasn't as if they were all enjoying Black's filthy hospitality for a little holiday.

The irritation faded as he took in more of the details. It was unusually crafted. _Verawood_. He realized, recognizing the deep green tint of the wood. It was etched with the Celtic knot around the grip, the dark brown of the interior wood showing through. Who in the Order would own one such as this? It was a substantial wand, 14 inches, by Snape's estimate, and verawood was not light. He knew because he had once…

Snape all but started forward from the wall, every nerve suddenly alive to his surroundings. The last time he had seen a verawood wand, it had been in the hands of a woman now dead because of Voldemort - and himself. His punishment, the Dark Lord had called her execution. Snape forced himself to look around, ascertain no one was watching before easing forward for a closer look. This wand was a veritable twin to the one she had carried.

His hesitant reach for the grip was interrupted as Mad-Eye Moody stumped into the room.

"Sorry to be late, but no sense in letting punctuality get in the way of good sense!" The man's gruff bellow drew all attention to the doorway, and the side of the room where Snape stood, inches from the wand. His magic eye rolled over Snape inquisitively, but moved on. "Are we eating first or talking business?"

There was a general hubbub as everyone attempted to give their opinion. Snape waited until it had calmed down before speaking. "Would it not be advisable to discuss Order business when we are still hungry enough to be attentive?"

The laugh that circled the room set Snape's teeth on edge. He despised being laughed at as much as he had as a teenager. Dumbledore motioned everyone to sit, taking his place at the head of the table, near where the wand lay, tantalizing him. It would have been better to simply decline to eat and give himself a chance to examine it while everyone else was occupied. Snape edged onto a seat, keeping his body tense.

"First of all, I'd like to thank Sirius for allowing us to use his home as headquarters for the Order," Dumbledore began.

A quick burst of applause, punctuated by a few cheers, and Sirius stood up to take a mock bow. Snape curled his lip and looked away. His eye fell on the wand again, and he risked a quick scan of those at the table. None of them seemed to be the sort to have an heirloom wand as this undoubtedly was. The current Ollivander didn't bother with verawood. His eye rested on Sirius for a split-second. Yes, the Blacks seemed the type, but he couldn't see his parents entrusting an antique to their madcap disappointment of a son. Perhaps not.

Dumbledore had continued speaking, and Snape forced himself to leave off his wonderings to pay attention.

"… there has been no word yet from Hagrid and Madame Maxime. I expect a message sometime within the next week as to whether or not they have made successful contact. Has anyone else found any recruits?"

Moody grunted. "There's a young Auror that might do. Nymphadora Tonks. She's a Metamorphmagus, perfect for any kind of undercover work. She'd be devoted to the cause, and that's certain."

"And yet you sound _un_certain, Alastor," Dumbledore interrupted, his tone not quite interrogative.

"Well, she's a bit of a clumsy young thing. I've been working with her and there's been improvement, but… she's got a long way to go from here."

"Weren't we all a bit young the last time around?" Sirius interjected. "I say bring in as much young blood as we can!"

_So much young blood will be spilt? _Severus sneered again. Black had not changed since fifth year. If anything, his time in Azkaban seemed to have enhanced his devil-may-care heedlessness.

Dumbledore seemed to be searching the table for someone. "I recruited a mediwitch only yesterday, and I thought she was here…"

"She's been trying to find that house elf for the last few hours – wanted the keys to a potions cabinet upstairs," Molly Weasley volunteered.

"Could you go fetch her, please?" Dumbledore requested. As Molly stood, he turned back to Alastor. "Are there any other Aurors we can count on?"

"Not likely," Moody growled. "That idiot Fudge has gotten to the lot of them, save Shacklebolt and this young Tonks. He's convinced anything you say is an attempt to bring down the ministry, Albus."

"The Dark Lord is recruiting aggressively within the ministry," Severus volunteered calmly, rather enjoying the shift in the mood of the room. Tension, and a certain element of fear now shrouded the gathering. "He's planning on infiltrating throughout the offices, so a takeover can be accomplished with less fuss and outcry."

"All the offices?" Arthur Weasley asked tensely.

_Yes, you would worry about that, wouldn't you? With your precious boy in the Minister's pocket? _ Severus turned down the table to where Arthur sat. "That is the Dark Lord's plan – and it would seem the minister is playing right into his hands."

Arthur paled. Sirius rolled his eyes and proceeded to stretch, his expression plainly telling Snape he had _no_ intention of being awed by any information he might bring. Snape let his guard down for a moment, letting the glittering hatred shine through his eyes. Black noticed, and retaliated with an exaggerated yawn.

"What else can you tell us, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his tone clearly telling the two culprits that their silent skirmish had not gone undetected.

"The Death Eaters have been commissioned to recruit a new army –"

"There's a surprise," Black interjected.

"- and several bands have been sent out to find and _dispose of _the traitors who walked free," Snape finished silkily.

"Are you in any danger, Severus?" It was Lupin's voice, sounding almost as if he cared.

Snape glanced at Dumbledore and tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. "That is always a possibility. For the moment, however, I am unaware of any assassins sent my way."

"Are they plannin' on using assassins like before, or will it really be an all-out war?"

Moody sounded excited by either prospect. Severus overcame an urge to Apparate far away from this house of lunacy and never return.

"At the moment, Voldemort is purging his ranks and making plans to move on the ministry."

Molly Weasley was coming back with the new recruit. Snape rolled his eyes, hoping Dumbledore would not make him repeat everything for the benefit of some grandmotherly mediwitch who couldn't withstand Dumbledore's charms. At least, that's who he pictured being foolish enough to agree to join the Order.

"He is most displeased that Potter escaped him in the cemetery," Snape continued, ignoring Molly's gasp from the doorway. She _tsked_ on her way to her seat, leaving the newcomer a few steps behind in the hallway. "The boy's death remains high on his list of aims, though he himself will not actively move against Potter until school begins, unless he can find…"

The words faded from his mind as if he had never conceived of them. He blinked, trying to tear his eyes away from the witch in the doorway. Her auburn hair was back in a rather severe bun, but her face had lost none of the fiery, eager intelligence he remembered. By sheer instinct, his face stayed almost unmoved as his heart all but ceased beating. She looked as if she had run into an Impedimenta and was on her feet by sheer force of will.

"Ah, yes, Miss Shannon," Dumbledore exclaimed, motioning her into the room. "For those who have yet to meet her, this is our new mediwitch."

She blinked and shook her head slightly as if to reorient herself to the scene. A smile appeared as if she had ordered it there. The absurd notion that he was gazing upon an Inferius was quickly discarded, but Snape found it hard to trust his eyes. Twelve years, she had been dead.

"Erm, Miss Shannon, are you acquainted with Severus Snape, our Potions Master?" Dumbledore asked as it slowly became apparent that the two were trying not to stare at each other. "You were in school at the same time, were you not?"

She seemed to recover herself, an almost defiant glint coming into her eye. "Indeed, Headmaster. I was merely surprised to see him here, for the last time I saw him, he was most dedicated Death Eater in Voldemort's service."

Author's Note: Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! I am having so much fun writing this. Hope you enjoy reading it.


	5. Chapter 4: Confundo

Author's Note: If you'd like an idea of what Treasa's wand looks like, google "verawood wand." There's a picture and description of the wand's magical properties.

* * *

The black eyes boring into hers showed only faint traces of surprise. Treasa gritted her teeth as another wave of anger built in her chest. Of all the places for Severus Snape to come back into her life, she had not anticipated an Order of the Phoenix meeting. Her personal favorite scenario had included a duel during which she soundly defeated him and sent him back to his master with the humiliating knowledge that she had spared his life.

Her eyes settled on Dumbledore, who seemed to be trying to keep back a chuckle.

"My dear Miss Shannon, Professor Snape has been a member of the Order for the last fourteen years."

Treasa's mind stepped in with the calculations without her willing it. He must have joined just after she had been taken… though she knew better than to suppose that her absence had caused him anything other than a moment's confusion at best. He certainly had done nothing to save her from the fate Voldemort planned.

"I see," she murmured, forcing a pleasant smile as she looked at Severus. As far as she knew, he was the only other one in the room who knew of their relationship, and she hoped to keep it that way. "Forgive me, Professor Snape, for doubting you."

He, at least, had retained his ability to read nonverbal signals. He nodded as coldly as if they truly had never seen each other outside of the corridors at Hogwarts. "Of course, Miss Shannon. "

The first concrete thing that registered with her was the lack of seating around the table. In fact, there were only two chairs left. One was to Severus's left, and only a few steps away. She could easily slide into that one and end the rather interested stares that were starting to gather on the two of them. _Never. _

The other chair was between Molly Weasley and Sirius Black at the other end of the table. Treasa took a deep breath as she moved toward them, willing her anger not to break through the surface. She didn't need to draw any more attention to herself.

"What were you saying, Severus?" Dumbledore prompted as Treasa's chair scraped up to the table.

"The Dark Lord has no plans to actively move against the boy unless he can do so indirectly. He wishes to gain power and not risk another _mistake_ –"

Sirius half-bolted from his chair, startling Treasa. "Mistake? Is that what you call it? That boy is alive because of his own powers and courage, not because of some slip-up of your master's –"

Treasa could feel an anger that matched her own shimmering off the man next to her. His fist was flexing, and he was ignoring Lupin's attempts to calm him. Molly gave another _tsk_ as the air rippled with the tension.

"Sirius."

It was Dumbledore's stern voice, sounding much as it had when they were in school. Treasa immediately straightened in response, smirking a little as nearly everyone around the table did the same. Moody leaned back, magic eye hopping from Dumbledore to Snape to Sirius. Severus merely stayed still, a sneer curling his lip. Sirius turned from him to Dumbledore, the stubborn lines of his body relaxing instantly.

"I merely report what I have been told, Black," Severus said coldly as Sirius reclaimed his seat. "Potter's escape was unexpected, and the Dark Lord does not wish to be so surprised again."

Sirius muttered something mostly unintelligible, eyes darting to Dumbledore before he slumped back in his seat in what could only be described as a pout. Treasa kept her eyes carefully between Dumbledore and Severus, just close enough that she could not be accused of looking away. She was still reeling inside from the shock of seeing him here, of all places.

_Just like a Slytherin. _The thought cooled her anger, leaving only the large cold lump of resentment that had built to near-hatred over the last decade. It stood to reason that such a dedicated Slytherin as Severus had discovered a way to worm himself back into the wizarding world's good graces after Voldemort's defeat.

"What should we do, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall asked, breaking the tense silence.

"For the moment, do our best to combat Voldemort's plans as discreetly as possible. If he wishes to get at Harry indirectly, he could easily use the people in this room."

There was a general murmur of assent. Treasa couldn't help but feel slightly left out. She had yet to meet the famous boy, and yet she was surrounded by people who were near enough to him to be used as weapons against him. She glanced at Severus, feeling her own lip curl in imitation of the expression on his face. Then again, Voldemort had thought _her_ important enough to Severus to use her as a weapon. He had been unfortunately mistaken.

"Arthur, Molly, I recommend bringing your children to stay here as soon as possible," Dumbledore said. Molly gave a tremulous jerk of agreement as he continued. "Someone must inform Miss Granger and bring her here as well."

"What about you, Albus?" Moody grunted. "It don't take a Legilimens to figure Voldemort's setting his wand against you just as much as Potter."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I daresay I'll manage."

"_Managing_ isn't good enough," Moody snapped. "You've always been a sight too lax for your own good. Being brilliant doesn't make you immortal."

"Which brings me to my next order of business," Dumbledore said smoothly. "We must recruit just as much as our friends the Death Eaters if we can hope to stand against them when the time comes."

"Bill and Charlie want to help," Arthur volunteered. "They're both willing to come home and stay."

Treasa felt rather than heard Molly's sob of fear. The older woman was fairly quaking, and her face had gone white. Bill and Charlie were sons of hers, obviously. Years of healer training prodded by the bond of a few hours' friendship prompted Treasa to reach out. Few things soothed a fear like a kindly touch. The gentle pat of the back of Molly's arm was rewarded by a brave smile and mouthed thanks.

"…Perhaps Charlie should stay where he is," Dumbledore mused. "Let me think on it, Arthur. I will give you my ideas on the matter soon. And now, surely we have talked enough on empty stomachs. Molly, is dinner ready?"

Treasa couldn't help but feel as if Dumbledore had also noticed Molly's distress. The headmaster was prone to such things. Molly bustled over to check the pot, motioning impatiently at Arthur to come help carry it. Treasa half-rose from her chair, only to have Arthur motion her back.

"For tonight, you are a guest, Miss Shannon," Arthur said with all the chivalry of a true Gryffindor. He grinned, "Next time you come, you're more than welcome to help as much as you want."

Treasa chuckled and nodded. The sound froze in her throat as a shadow fell over her. Severus stood beside her, holding out her wand, hilt first. Her heart jumped. She had not expected him to come anywhere near her.

"I would suggest, Miss Shannon, that you keep your wand close," he intoned with as much emotion as if he were addressing a complete stranger. "It is not wise to leave such a distinctive wand where anyone can see or steal it."

"Anyone in the Order?" Sirius snapped, nearly making both of them start.

"As you say, Black," Severus said silkily, his eyes flicking back to Treasa impatiently. "This piece is distinctive enough that I recognized it even after all these years. If anyone wished you harm it would be an easily identifiable bit of property."

Treasa grasped the handle. "You have a long memory, Professor," she said coldly. "Rather sharper than I would have expected."

The slightest deepening of the crease between his eyebrows was his only indicator that her veiled barb had been received. Treasa studied his face for a moment. The years had not been kind to him, she noted with an almost guilty sense of satisfaction. He looked the part of a miserable, crotchety, confirmed bachelor fully twenty years older than he actually was. His hair was just as greasy as ever. Treasa adjusted her own bun placidly. It was good to know he had been affected by the years as she had.

"Good evening, Miss Shannon," he said, sweeping Sirius with an icy glare before walking away.

Treasa followed him with her eyes. Minerva McGonagall stopped him at the door, gesturing to the table. He shook his head and rushed through the doorway as if a werewolf were on his heels.

"Old Snivellus can't bring himself to accept Black hospitality," Sirius said easily, chuckling as he turned from his own observation of Snape. "Can't say I'm heartbroken by it."

"As I recall, you were never the best of friends in school," Treasa said, giving the first safe answer than came to mind.

"You Ravenclaw lot didn't go in much for school gossip, did you?" Sirius gave an outright laugh that time, hearty and mellow. "Snape and I were practically blood enemies by the end of seventh year."

_At least we have that in common_. Treasa's reply was cut off by a large tureen of stew being placed between Sirius and herself.

"Come, everyone, tuck in!" Dumbledore ordered, sending goblets around with a flick of his wand.

It came as no surprise to Treasa that Molly Weasley was an excellent cook, but the silence and speed with which her offerings were devoured were high praise. Treasa carried her dishes to the sink, determined to at least help with the tidying after the meal.

"So, how many children do you have, Molly?" Treasa asked as she carried several goblets to the sink.

Molly looked up from the cleaning spell she was directing at a crusted over part of a pan. Her face was flushed. "Well, let's see," she puffed, blowing a red curl out of her eyes. "There's Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, the twins, Ron and Ginny. Six boys and one girl."

Treasa raised her eyebrows. "It's a marvel you haven't lost your senses with so many to care for."

Molly laughed. "One gets by, you know. It's amazing what you can do if you find that you must. I was thankful Ginny was a girl – I do believe that seven is my absolute limit. Do you have any children?"

Treasa shook her head. It was too complicated to try to navigate that conversation. She had no children, but had been married for sixteen years. Her husband was an acknowledged Death Eater, who apparently now worked closely with the Order of the Phoenix. Complicated didn't begin to cover it.

"Ah well, your time will come," Molly predicted. "I can't understand why a pretty witch such as yourself never yet caught herself a man."

Treasa levitated the kettle out of the soap suds, casting a quick drying spell before setting it on the counter. "I suppose I never found the right wizard."

Her left thumb absently rubbed the underside of her empty ring finger. That much was as true today as it had been sixteen years ago when there had been a silver serpent on that finger. Severus Snape had never been the right wizard for her.


	6. Chapter 5: Deprimo

Snape swirled the brandy in his cup as he slouched in the armchair by his fireplace, regarding the twisting, eddying flames with morose fascination. He had yet to take more than the first sip. His thoughts were absorbing enough to make the physical realities dim around him.

How had she managed to stay hidden for the last fourteen years? He prided himself on keeping informed on the doings of any who might have connections to the Death Eaters. Surely someone as close as Treasa Shannon could not have escaped his watchfulness.

A gusty sigh sent a few long tendrils of hair further across his face. Severus brushed them aside impatiently, raising his glass to his lips.

The fire flamed green as Dumbledore's head and shoulders appeared amidst the flames. Several drops of brandy lodged in Snape's lungs as he inhaled. The coughing fit was mercifully short-lived, but it was through watery eyes that Snape regarded the headmaster.

"Coming down with something, Severus?"

Snape raised an eyebrow as he cleared his throat one last time. "Yes, a certain allergic reaction to invasions of my privacy."

"May I come in?" Dumbledore asked. Snape would have sworn he could hear the insufferable chuckle in his voice.

"Do I have a choice?" He asked drily.

"Good," Dumbledore said, still sporting that sprightly tone Severus had never been able to understand.

Moments later he stood in the library, shaking the last of the Floo powder off his robes. Severus poured a second glass of brandy and held it out silently. He eyed his own nearly-empty glass and decided not to risk another misadventure. He'd had enough for one evening.

"To a successful meeting," Dumbledore toasted, pausing to savor the brandy. "Excellent, Severus, just the nightcap I was looking for."

"May I assume you didn't come merely for my alcohol selection?" Severus asked, bypassing the attempt at small talk. Dumbledore always tried. Severus had given up guessing why.

"We covered quite a bit over dinner. It's a shame you had to leave so quickly. Urgent business, I trust?" Dumbledore said mildly, looking around at the bookshelves.

Snape gave a thin smile. "More allergies."

Dumbledore shot him a sharp look. "Nothing you cannot overcome, surely."

Severus recognized that warning tone. It was a none-too-gentle reminder of the conditions of their relationship. Severus was granted forgiveness unconditionally, but his acceptance was wholly dependent on how closely he followed Dumbledore's instructions.

"I shall endeavor to fortify myself, but I suggest you discuss this matter with Black – I believe he suffers from the same malady."

"More's the pity, I must say." Dumbledore sighed. "Now, on to our own business. Is there anything else you can tell me about Voldemort's plans?"

"He is anxious to get at Potter in any way he can without risking himself," Severus said. "I've done my best to suggest passive things - planting restlessness and discontent in the boy's mind, for example. He is rather susceptible to such things, after all."

"And this is passive?" Dumbledore interrupted, his voice still mild, but definitely questioning.

"Lucius Malfoy suggested killing the boy's relatives so their protective wards would no longer stand. By comparison, I must say I considered a little angst for our dear little celebrity to be a desirable alternative." Snape said, letting his voice laze over the words to hide the irritation.

"Point well taken, my boy," Dumbledore conceded, raising his glass for a contemplative sip.

Snape bit the inside of his lip, wondering how long it would take for Dumbledore to mention _her_. It was one of the few pieces of his life that had remained hidden from the headmaster, and he preferred to keep it that way. On the other hand, evading questions when they came was rarely a wise tactic with Dumbledore.

"Speaking of the Malfoys, do you realize you have a close relative of theirs in the Order?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "There are at least five members of the Order who can claim direct relations to the Malfoys; to which were you referring?"

_One to you, Dumbledore._ Snape's tooth sank into his lip again. "The new mediwitch – Shannon, wasn't it?"

"Treasa Shannon is no more a Death Eater than you are, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "You were in school together, weren't you?"

"Yes, and I recall she was most attached to her cousin Narcissa. Rather a know-it-all from what I recall, always meddling where she wasn't wanted." Snape traced the rim of his glass with his finger, calculating how much to pry. "I don't believe I've heard anything of her since we left school. Has she been at St. Mungo's all this time?"

Dumbledore's eyes rested on him for a long moment. Snape tentatively raised his Occlumency shields, though Dumbledore had never given him cause to use them.

"She said she angered some of the Death Eaters and was forced to leave the wizarding community. She has been a Muggle healer – a nurse. It was only recently that she returned to the country and to St. Mungo's. " Dumbledore paused. "Do you know anything about her disagreements with the Death Eaters? I should like to know exactly how much danger she will be in now Voldemort has returned."

"I do not know why she was forced to flee the country," Snape said slowly. That much was true enough. To the best of his knowledge, she could have simply fled his presence, now he knew she had not been executed –

A burning pain shot up his left forearm. Severus grabbed at it reflexively, grinding his teeth. The years of peace made the summons harder to bear than in the old days. He looked up at Dumbledore, who was eyeing him in concern.

"Go on, lad, I'll cork the brandy before I leave."

Snape didn't waste the mental energy to come up with a retort. He checked to be sure his wand was still inside his robes, then focused on the one thing he did not wish to. _Voldemort._

A moment later he was catching his breath on the Malfoy lawn. Of course, Lucius would have offered the sprawling estate as a haven for the Death Eaters. Snape jumped slightly as loud _crack_ nearby announced the arrival of Crabbe. He nodded silently at the man, hiding his distaste at the beefy man's vaguely reverent expression.

They walked in together. Snape tuned out Crabbe's wheezy breathing and searched through his memories of the meeting. There were only a few moments he could make available, now that Shannon's face featured so prominently in so many. Black – yes, he could use those, and those of Dumbledore asking about recruits. That would be of interest to the Dark Lord.

Draco met them at the door, his pointed face almost flushed with excitement.

"Professor," he said importantly, barely deigning to acknowledge Crabbe's presence.

"Draco," Severus kept his face impassive. He had always rather liked Draco, despite the marks of his mother's pampering. The boy had a certain gift with potions, and had always been devoted to Snape, though for what reason the professor could only guess at. "Have you completed the research on properties of the bezoar yet?"

Draco gave a snorting laugh. "Not quite, sir. I've been busy with other matters."

_I've no doubt, Mr. Malfoy._

Draco stared icily at Crabbe, who was obviously waiting for instructions. "Everyone's gathering in the dining room, just through there."

Crabbe hesitated only a moment before nodding and heading in the direction Draco indicated. Draco waited until he had turned the corner before he stepped closer to Snape.

"I've been working on my Occlumency. Father says I've a talent for it, and he thinks it'll be a useful thing when… when I'm a bit older – if the Dark Lord should have need of me, you know."

Snape controlled the flinch at the eagerness in Draco's voice. He saw only the glory and power associated with the Dark Lord. Severus saw a hint of his own youthful enthusiasm for the Dark Arts in the blond Slytherin. A good Slytherin would weigh the advantages and risks before allying himself, something Snape intended to remind his students when term began again.

"A talent for Occlumency, eh?" Severus said, grasping his wand. "Let's have a go, then."

Draco's eyes widened for a moment. Snape saw the hesitation before his lips woodenly formed a smirk. "I know I'm not half so good as you, sir. Father says there's none better in the whole country – he even said…" Draco paused, suddenly diffident. "Well, I was wondering if perhaps you could teach me more."

"After I've seen your current capabilities, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said impatiently, motioning him backwards with his wand. Draco's tendency to babble slightly when asking for something was beyond Snape's current toleration level.

Draco stepped back, tightening his upper body in preparation. Snape gave him an extra span of a breath to compose himself before raising his wand and speaking the spell in a slow, measured tone.

"_Legilimens."_

Draco's initial shield was surprisingly strong. Snape found himself with no immediate memories to seize upon. He probed the defense, exerting only as much power as he felt Draco could reasonably withstand. It took only seconds for the shield to crack. A memory came into view, one of Lucius telling Draco of the honor of standing in the Dark Lord's presence. Draco was grinning broadly, soaking in the overblown tale. Severus could see the calculating gleam in Lucius' eyes. He wanted Draco completely indoctrinated when the time came.

Snape severed the link, watching Draco steady himself. The boy's eyes were searching his face with hooded anxiety.

"Your concentration needs work. It is not merely the ability to create the shields that is the heart of Occlumency, it is the ability to fortify them against attack," Snape said, hearing his voice slide into lecture tone.

Draco nodded, the slightest slump of his shoulders betraying his disappointment. Snape looked away for a moment, weighing his reactions. The boy was one of _his _Slytherins, after all. They were not as coddled as they had been under Horace Slughorn, perhaps, but all the students in his house knew Snape gave them praise when it was deserved, a treat reserved only for Slytherins.

"Still, you've done well on your own, Draco." The boy's face lit up for a moment before he carefully guarded his expression. Snape nodded in approval. "Come see me when school begins and we shall see about some lessons."

Another Death Eater was hurrying up the walk, so Snape nodded curtly at Draco and continued into the dining room.

The air was fraught with tension. The Death Eaters were gathered in whispering clumps around the room, some by the fireplace, three by the window, four or five seated at one end of the long, polished, ebony dining table. Wormtail stood sentinel by a door leading into the drawing room and the rest of the house. Severus noted the new pride in the insufferable man's bearing. He had finally succeeded in groveling his way into success.

There were a few trays of cold cuts and cheese on the table, Narcissa's doing, no doubt. Severus' stomach clenched, reminding him that he had turned down Molly Weasley's hot stew and the only sustenance he had taken was the interrupted glass of brandy. Here, at least, he would need fortification. He headed toward the trays, nodding at the various followers as he passed.

Malfoy walked up as Severus bit into a cube of cheese.

"Ah, Severus, so good to see you here and on time," Lucius said in the smooth, drawling tone that made the barb stick that much deeper. "The Dark Lord will be so… pleased."

Severus let himself finish chewing at his normal rate, giving himself time to raise the partial shields he always kept at the ready when near Death Eaters. "Lucius. Draco tells me you've been particularly honored by the Dark Lord – as indeed our presence here suggests. The grounds are safe, I trust?"

Lucius' chest swelled a little. "I believe I've covered the manor with enough protective spells to keep even the great Albus Dumbledore at bay. If any idiots from the Ministry should express an interest in snooping, well… I will say only that, on the whole, Ministry officials are surprisingly susceptible to the Imperius Curse."

"Indeed." Snape made note of that to inform Dumbledore. He nodded approvingly, remembering a time when Lucius' gift with the Imperius had been a source of great amusement at Hogwarts. In fact, he had once set three Ravenclaws to doing the whole of Slytherin House's homework for a week before another Ravenclaw had interfered.

_Treasa_. Snape's mouth tightened. It had been Treasa Shannon who reported them to Flitwick. Lucius was regarding him with an odd expression in those pale blue eyes. Snape relaxed his features, reaching for a slice of bread and some of the cold chicken.

"When is the Dark Lord to appear?" Snape asked casually. "I expected him to be waiting for us."

"He is currently hearing a report from Fenrir Greyback," Lucius said, motioning toward the drawing room door where Wormtail stood guard. "I daresay it will not be much longer."

As if in response to his statement, the door opened and Lord Voldemort swept into the room. Everyone immediately dropped to their knees as he passed, stopping at the head of the table. Once he had seated himself, he motioned the others to stand with a flick of his hand. Lucius moved to claim the seat on his right, hesitating until he saw Voldemort's nod of approval. Wormtail positioned himself on the left, only to be shoved aside by Greyback, whose snarl kept him from attempting to reclaim his position.

The other Death Eaters arranged themselves in acknowledged order, some heading instantly to the foot of the table, others jostling each other for the middle positions. Lucius put his arm over the back of the chair to his left, motioning Snape toward it with a jerk of his head. Severus controlled the slight grin of triumph and claimed the seat, noting Voldemort's nod of welcome. It had not taken long for Voldemort to forget his initial suspicion and take him back as a trusted lieutenant, and Lucius, however jealous he may be, was quick to recognize Snape's return to favor.

"Death Eaters, you have done well since our last gathering," Voldemort began, his high, cold tones as truly approving as was possible for him to make them. "I see several new recruits, and Greyback has informed me he can promise us the support of the werewolves."

There was a murmur of approval that ran around the table. Snape could feel the chill that accompanied it, however. Having a werewolf on your side was comforting, but only until the full moon.

"I have been in contact with the dementors, and they are prepared to join us when the moment is right. For now, I wish to maintain our focus on the Ministry, particularly the Department of Mysteries. There is something there I greatly desire."

Snape sat a little straighter, focusing on Voldemort's quiet voice.

"You see, my faithful Death Eaters, there is a prophecy concerning myself and one who is supposed to destroy me. Our own Severus Snape first informed me of the prophecy almost fifteen years ago, but he was unable to report the entire prophecy."

Lucius' eyes rested on him in cool appraisal. Severus endured the gaze unflinchingly, his eyes on Voldemort. Let Lucius judge all he wished. He had done more than Malfoy could dream of, simply by using his ears.

"I believe the rest of the prophecy will prove useful in our current endeavors. If Potter can be removed as a threat, the rest of the wizarding world will be much more – amenable to our goals. For now, he remains their shining hope."

"I will retrieve the prophecy for you, my Lord. I have many contacts at the Ministry." Lucius volunteered.

Snape hid his smirk as Voldemort turned his attention on Lucius. Being over-eager was never wise with the Dark Lord.

"It must be accomplished with as little disruption as possible, Lucius," Voldemort said softly. "I believe more careful planning is in order."

"Lucius could certainly begin making inquiries, my Lord," Severus suggested. "I have been told by Dumbledore that the Order of the Phoenix is anxious to establish a footing in the Ministry as well. It would be best to distract them with another threat."

"Such as?"

"Potter."

Voldemort's eyes widened in satisfaction. "I've no doubt there is a plan simmering in that mind of yours, Severus. Go on."

Severus chose his words carefully. "It would be unwise for you to move against him directly at this time. However, if you could entice him to do our work for us – run away from his aunt and uncle's house, for example, or perhaps perform some magic and let the Ministry render him powerless for us. The Order of the Phoenix would turn their attention to the boy and leave the Ministry more vulnerable."

Voldemort stroked his chin, considering. A quiet murmuring around the table told Snape his plan was well-received.

"Dementors." It was Lucius' voice that broke in next. Voldemort's eyes cut to him, eyebrows raised. "You said the dementors have pledged their allegiance. Send them to the boy's home. He'll either be defeated, or be forced to perform magic and have his wand broken for it."

_Potter has fought dementors before, you fool._ Snape halted the objection before it reached his lips. Yes, Potter had defeated dementors over a year ago. In fact, the likelihood of him failing this time was slim. It would, however, be a diversion, a necessary one. He sat back, his silence indicating approval.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I will think on it. We must choose a time when Potter is most susceptible to aggravation. Perhaps a few more weeks at home will prove just the irritant we need."


	7. Chapter 6: Incarcerous

_Treasa stood trembling in the middle of her parents' drawing room. It was deep in the night and the hastily lit candles cast more shadow than light on the faces around her. The room was nearly full, she noted, though most of the faces were obscured. The one directly in front of her was, unfortunately, all too clear._

"_Tell me your name, girl," Lord Voldemort commanded._

_She clutched at the collar of her nightrobe, feeling the Dark Lord's eyes boring into her. "Treasa."_

_Her father cleared his throat and glared. Treasa's gaze jumped from him back to Voldemort. He had pursed his lips, obviously waiting. She bit her tongue, then added, "my lord."_

_Voldemort nodded in satisfaction at the title. "You have spirit," he said in cold tones that spoke neither of anger nor of approbation. "Take heed that it is well-governed."_

"_Always by my own good judgment." _

_Her father broke in with a choking cough, his brogue thick and halting. "A bit high-strung, she is, my lord. She's smart as they come, though. Got all O's on her N.E.W.T.S. Trained to be a mediwitch – just sent off a query to St. Mungo's last -"_

"_Silence."_

_The sharp edge to the high voice made everyone stiffen. Treasa's mother was watching her with the same misty-eyed expression she had worn at the Hogwarts graduation months ago. The look annoyed Treasa, cutting through the fear that had been circling her chest. Her parents were supporters of Lord Voldemort, but her own feelings on the issue had never been asked._

"_My lord, I beg you would come to the point of your visit," she said formally, inclining her head ever so slightly. "It is late and my mother is fatigued."_

_Voldemort stepped forward and grabbed her arm, bringing her face very close to his. In spite of herself, a shiver of fear snaked through her body. There was something inhuman about his eyes. _

"_You have been chosen for a great honor. One of my lieutenants is in need of a wife – someone intelligent, strong-willed, and devoted to our cause. Your parents assure me you are all three of these things." Those horrid eyes were piercing hers, daring her to deny it. He released her arm. "Your qualifications have been confirmed by several Death Eaters… though Bellatrix thinks you are not as dedicated as we would like to believe."_

_His tone almost made the sentence a question. Her mother gave a rather desperate twitch, her eyes flitting from Treasa to the bone-like wand in Voldemort's hand. She understood the message. The Dark Lord's reputation for killing dissenters was well-established. _

_Treasa held her tongue and waited._

"_She keeps company with the likes of the Longbottoms!" The accusation came from somewhere in the knot of Death Eaters._

"_Alice Longbottom has been my friend since the day we were sorted," Treasa said, her voice steady despite the leap in tension. "I do not deny it, nor would I wish to."_

"_She's loyal to a fault, my lord, and no mistake," her father said hastily._

_Voldemort flicked his wand at him, instantly halting the flow of sound. "Ah, loyalty. I can see where you have learned this… admirable quality."_

_Treasa took a step toward her father, only to have Voldemort block her path._

"_Let me make myself clear, Miss Shannon. I require a pureblood witch to marry a Death Eater who has, unfortunately, developed an interest in a mudblood. He is faithful to me and I wish to reward him for his decision – and you are the witch I have selected."_

"_I am no house elf to be ordered about on a whim!" Treasa snapped, breaking into the brogue she had spent years banishing from her voice. She had no intention of becoming a brood mare for some filthy Death Eater._

_The white wand pointed toward her parents. Voldemort smiled. "Quite. But surely a young lady of your intelligence can appreciate the delicacy of the situation you find yourself in. Either you agree to marry my Death Eater peaceably and enjoy a comfortable home and protection for your parents and yourself… or there will be unimaginable consequences."_

_She bit her tongue again, willing her reason to overcome the fury coursing through her. Her mother's face had gone completely white._

"_Surely there are other witches who would willingly take such an exalted position, my lord," she said, doing her best to infuse her tone with humility. "I have only ever dreamed of being a simple mediwitch, and surely canno-"_

_The words came to an abrupt halt as Voldemort reached out and caressed a lock of her hair. "You have certain qualifications others do not. Besides, you are already familiar with your groom-to-be."_

_Treasa's focus had been solely on resisting the urge to recoil at the Dark Lord's touch. His words gave her pause. She had noticed Voldemort's omission of a name, and had conjured all sorts of horrid images of dull brutes with the physique and mental capacities of a half-witted giant._

"_Familiar, my lord?"_

"_Yes," Voldemort said, gaze sharpening on her face. "Severus Snape."_

* * *

Treasa patted Alice Longbottom's wasted hand as the sun-washed ward came back into focus.

"So many years, Alice," she muttered, automatically smoothing the wrinkled blanket on the bed.

Alice smiled, a mere shadow of the brilliant smile Treasa remembered. "Friend," she said softly, covering Treasa's hand with one of her own.

Treasa returned the smile, fighting tears. _You will be avenged, my friend. No matter what Severus may do to undermine it – the Order will succeed._


	8. Chapter 7: Anapneo

A few drops more of the dragon's blood and the potion would be ready for its final simmer. Severus held the little vial for a long moment, contemplating. He had long hypothesized that an extra two drops of the dragon's blood in the Unctuous Unction render the same loyalty-inducing effects without the annoying personal side effects. The most common complaint Snape had from the Death Eaters was that the wizards who drank it would follow them around like lost puffskeins. The effects of the potion were more powerful and lasting than an Imperius curse, but they included making the drinker believe that the giver was his or her best friend and dearest companion. The Death Eaters had little patience for such delusions.

His hand wavered over the cauldron. The extra drops would undoubtedly cut down on the personal attachment effect… but the potion in its current state was providing a fine irritant for the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord not specifically ordered him to improve the brew, but it was certainly implied. On the other hand, Dumbledore had encouraged him to solidify his standing in the Death Eater ranks by any reasonable way possible…

One, two, three. His hand paused with the vial delicately balanced over the cauldron.

The green flash of the Floo being used behind him nearly made him jump, but the dragon's blood did not drip. His jaw tightened. Only one person could get through his grate without first requesting permission, and the privilege was rarely used.

"If you ruin this potion for me, Headmaster, I'll let you explain to the Dark Lord yourself," he snapped, still weighing his options for the dragon's blood.

"And if you ever confuse me with Albus Dumbledore again, I'll give you plenty to explain to the Dark Lord."

The vial clattered to the table, blood fizzing in the flames underneath the cauldron. Almost without conscious thought, he flicked his wand at the mess to clean it up – narrowly avoiding emptying the cauldron of three days' work. Snape turned on his heel.

"Treasa."

"Severus."

A room full of Death Eaters was much less intimidating than that hazel glare. Snape took a deep breath through his nostrils and forced his muscles to relax. Still, words escaped him.

She cocked an eyebrow in sardonic surprise. "I suppose it was too much trouble to remove my password from the network. I confess, I didn't expect to get in."

_I didn't think of it…_ Snape pursed his lips. That was _not_the right answer to give – particularly not to an angry female. "Won't you sit down, Treasa?"

It was odd, calling her by her first name. "Miss Shannon" was a ridiculous façade while they were alone, but he could hardly call her "Mrs. Snape." He struggled to remember how he had addressed her then. No title came to mind.

Treasa was looking around the Spartan laboratory, the eyebrow still infuriatingly cocked. "Where, specifically?"

He made to draw his wand, but she beat him to it. With a flourish of verawood, a comfortable armchair of midnight blue velvet appeared. She lowered herself into it with a frosty smile that found an answering icily polite expression on his face. _Infuriating witch._

"Your hospitality is as impressive as ever."

"As is your wit," he rejoined blandly, drawing up a less padded armchair for himself. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Can't a wife visit her husband without cause?"

The blood stilled in his veins at her flippant tone. Surely she didn't mean to… it would be unmitigated disaster all around if she planned…

"I don't recall you taking advantage of that particular privilege ever before," Severus said, keeping his tone level by sheer force of will. "And I find it difficult to believe that a twelve-year absence has made your heart grow fonder towards me."

"It has rendered you capable of more than five minutes in my company, so am I newly impressed by its efficacy," Treasa said bitingly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Enough. If you've come for a reason other than taunting me, by all means proceed. If not, I have much work to do."

Treasa locked eyes with him. "We have to talk."

"And so we are." Severus pondered using Legilimency on her – it would take much less time than playing her game. And yet, he remembered all too well the last time he had sought to enter her mind.

"The Order must not know about our… relationship." Treasa said firmly. "I refuse to allow my usefulness to the Order to be compromised."

"I assure you I had no intention of sharing the information." He leaned forward, letting his voice drop lower. "Though I'm not certain why our marriage would compromise anything for _you_."

"Don't be thick, Severus, it doesn't become you," she snapped. "Don't think I haven't seen through your pathetic charade of helping the Order – and don't think the others haven't as well. I don't want my own endeavors soiled by association."

Severus gave himself to the count of five to inhale before replying. Irony was heavy in his voice when he finally did speak. "And if my part truly is a charade, do you expect to leave this manor alive? I'm certain the Dark Lord would love to carry out the plan that the Potters interrupted."

She gave a pale smile. "Dumbledore would know – and for all your faults, Severus, you're not stupid enough to risk his displeasure. Your master needs you to be close to him."

"Then I repeat, if you've something to discuss, please do so or leave. I have no time to waste in idle baiting such as this."

Her lips pursed into a purposeful line, hazel eyes burning. "I'm here to give you a warning. I will do everything in my power to aid the Order and bring about Voldemort's downfall – and yours."

He stilled, locking out any reaction he might have had. Her wand was lying across her lap, but he had no doubt she would be more than happy to use it on him at the slightest provocation.

Treasa stood, the armchair vanishing behind her. "I've spent the last twelve years forgetting everything to do with you, Severus Snape. All I'm telling you to do is make sure I don't have to remember."

She took two steps, then glanced back at him. "By the way, your cauldron is bubbling over."


	9. Chapter 8: Deletrius

"Fred, George, if I catch you in that potions cabinet again, I will confiscate your brooms!"

Treasa grimaced at the shrill tone. She eyed the potion bottle in George's hand. "I suggest you give that back to me before your mother makes it in here."

"Mum always shouts like that," Fred scoffed, tweaking the bottle out of his twin's hand. "Besides, if you're with us, you can tell her we're interested for..."

"Academic purposes. That'll make her feel better," George finished the sentence.

Treasa cocked an eyebrow. "Academic purposes. You're asking me about Nonplusing Concoctions for academic purposes, eh?"

Fred grinned. "They aren't covered much in Potions, you know."

She attempted to grab the bottle, only to have Fred toss it to his other hand. "There's a reason for that, young man," she lectured. "Nonplusing Concoction has the highest concentration of lovage of any Befuddlement potion."

George gave a low whistle. "Wouldn't that be dangerous in someone's pumpkin juice."

Treasa nodded, making other swipe at the bottle. "Stewed lovage is the most effective way to bring about hot-headedness in the drinker – and if you think any sane professor is going to make it readily available to teenagers, you're not as clever as I thought you were."

Fred grinned. "Thank you, Treasa." He turned to George, "What about adding a few drops of lovage into that new love potion? Fourth years would love it."

She scowled at him, looking pointedly at the bottle in his hand. "My estimation is dropping by the moment." A loud creaking from the hall interrupted her. "And if I'm not mistaken, your mother is headed down the hall right now."

"C'mon, Treasa, you'll cover for us, won't you?"

They were both giving her the most irresistible mock-pleading expressions. Treasa set her jaw and opened her mouth to demand the bottle again when Molly burst in the door.

"Well, then, I don't see any floors that need mopping in this room, do you, boys?" she asked. "I've brought another bottle of Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover in case you have run out."

She looked pointedly at the near-full misting bottle in George's hand. "Do you need more, dear?"

The twins both turned out beatific smiles that would have charmed You-Know-Who himself as Fred's hand surreptitiously withdrew from his trouser pocket. Treasa turned back to the tall cabinet to hide her smirk, busily shifting bottles to see if any of them were poisons.

"Actually, Mum, Fred's run out. We were just talking to Treasa about some of these potions – thought maybe we could get on old Snape's good side when term starts again."

Treasa's head turned at the mention of the name.

"_Professor_ Snape, boys," Molly said automatically, though the bite was gone from her reproof. "The man is your teacher and should respected –"

_- just as much as Professor McGonagall or any of the other professors at Hogwarts. _Both Fred and George mouthed the rest of the sentence in the same memorized cadence Molly delivered it. Treasa had the distinct impression all three of them were tired of hearing it.

"Yes, mum," the twins intoned.

"Now get on with you," Molly ordered, shoving them toward the door. "There's plenty of work to be done. Remind Ginny that she's got to have that bedroom clean by this evening. Hermione won't want to share with her if the floors aren't visible yet."

The boys grinned at each other. Molly took a step toward them, finger raised.

"Boys, I meant –"

With a dual _crack_, the twins Disapparated.

" – to walk."

Treasa couldn't restrain the quiet laugh as Molly's hand fell uselessly to her side. "Oh, Molly, they're young. They'll grow tired of it soon enough."

"Not likely," Molly said. "Those two still haven't gotten over levitating things."

This time, they shared the laugh. "They aren't disturbing you too much, are they, Treasa? I _can _speak to them about it."

"Not at all. They're delightful – and their questions are giving me plenty of chance to dust off my old potions knowledge. After twelve years away from the wizarding world, it's good practice."

Treasa took another bottle out of the cabinet and brushed the dust off the label, squinting at the old calligraphy. _Re'em blood._ She grimaced, thankful the twins weren't here to ask about that particular flask.

"Why did you stay away so long?" Molly asked, absently scrubbing at the side table with the sleeve of her robe. "You've only ever told me that you left because of the Death Eaters, but surely after… You-Know-Who had gone…"

Molly was doing an excellent job of not prying. Treasa had to give her credit for that. She had rehearsed a story for just such a question, but found herself faltering when she attempted to bring it forward.

"My parents were very strong supporters of You-Know-Who, and when I moved home after school, they did their best to introduce me into the Death Eater circles. I did… well, shall we say a poor job of hiding my distaste." Treasa added the Re'em blood to the collection of potion ingredients that might still be useful and stretched to reach the top shelf.

"And?" Molly prodded helpfully.

Treasa smiled tightly. "I made enemies. Powerful ones. Bellatrix LeStrange, for example, and several other Death Eaters who were _not_ captured after You-Know-Who's defeat. I was also dear friends with the Longbottoms, and did my best to warn them before Bellatrix and her party descended on them –"

"But how could you have known that the Longbottoms were to be singled out for an attack?"

Treasa could tell that the question had been almost involuntary, given Molly's look of dismay after it was spoken. She mentally flogged herself for opening up that line of questioning. How indeed did she know the inner workings of the Death Eaters based on her current story?

"Well, I –"

The door banged open, interrupting her attempt to compensate. Sirius Black limped into the room, his scowl enough to drive the incomplete story from both women's minds. The fluent stream of curses streaming from his mouth in a half-undertone only added to the disruption. Molly clicked her tongue, which seemed to get his attention.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered, clenching his jaw in an apparent attempt to stem the flow. "Blasted umbrella stand!"

"I beg your pardon?" Treasa asked, certain that something in this frightening house had bewitched the man.

"I was attempting to take down my mother's portrait in the front hall – you know, the one that screams for an hour every time the door opens …"

Sirius paused for a moment to ease himself into a chair, obviously favoring his right foot. He looked back up and blinked at Treasa. "What are you doing here?"

She chuckled at the blunt, somewhat disoriented question. Another _tsk_ from Molly seemed to clear his head a bit.

"Forgive me, Miss Shannon, I was simply surprised to see you so early to the meeting. It's only mid-afternoon, after all."

Treasa nodded. "Understandable. I came when my shift ended because I have been wanting to sort through these potions to see which ones might still be useful to the Order. As mediwitch, it's the only part of my job I can really fulfill at the moment."

"Ah, I have the remedy for that," Sirius said, grimacing as he lifted his right foot. "I believe my dear mother cursed that ugly umbrella stand –"

"- the one made from a troll's leg?" Molly interjected.

"The very same. When I attempted to disassemble the frame to extract the portrait, the umbrella stand toppled over on my foot – hard. I think it may have broken a bone or two."

Treasa hurried over and crouched by the foot, easing his shoe off. "Don't move too much. Don't want to puncture any skin."

Molly gave a slight sniff, eyeing Sirius with sudden suspicion. "Didn't you ever learn the basic healing spells, Sirius? I thought Filius Flitwick covered them fairly thoroughly."

Sirius laughed through a grimace as Treasa probed the side of his foot. "Molly, as much I as hate to burst any illusions you may have of me as a studious person, you should know that I rarely paid attention in Charms after I got the basic 'swish and flick' method down."

Treasa drew her wand. "Looks like a couple broken toes and a few of these bones on the side of your foot." She touched the area and Sirius yelped. "Just hold still and it will be fixed in a moment."

With a quick _Episkey_ and the small snap of bones reknitting, the job was done. Sirius winced once, then opened one eye tentatively.

"Is that it?"

Treasa retreated a step and crossed her arms.

"I prescribe a cup of pumpkin juice and help the next time you attempt to take down that portrait."

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius said, saluting smartly before reaching for his shoe. He looked back up and grinned at her. "I think Dumbledore made an excellent choice in recruiting you."

"I'll be sure to tell him you approve of his decision."

Treasa recognized the sparkle in his eyes too well not to realize she was being flirted with. She smiled in response, taking stock. The man was good-looking, charming to a fault, and fearlessly dedicated to the Order. Her thumb rubbed her ring finger again. Was she still bound by that old vow?

"Well, then, Sirius," Molly said, breaking the silence that had lingered a moment too long. "I suggest you go find Remus and start collecting chairs for tonight's meeting. It will be a large one."

As he turned to go, Treasa was certain she saw him wink. Molly was watching her with an expression of calculating delight. She almost laughed out loud as she imagined either of their reactions if they knew the reason for her hesitation.

"What that man needs is someone to keep him on a good path," Molly observed delicately. "Do tell me, Treasa dear, was there anyone special you met while you were out among the Muggles?"

_Ah, so subtle, Molly Weasley._ Treasa tucked her wand into her sleeve and returned to the cabinet. "In a manner of speaking."

"Oh?" Molly bustled over instantly. "There's a story I'd love to hear."

The memory was still strong, though it had been three years now. This, at least, was a story free from Severus. Treasa grasped the next potion bottle in her hand, thumb idly rubbing the dust from the label as she contemplated where to begin.

"After I ran from the Death Eaters, I traveled a great deal. I spent a few years in France, a summer in Italy, visited Spain. I ended up in America, went to their healer training – nursing school. It was a challenge, I assure you, learning to heal without magic. I had gotten used to the day-to-day living, but nursing was another story entirely."

Molly was nodding sympathetically, but Treasa knew this was not what she wanted to hear about. "I settled in a small town in Rhode Island, a tiny hospital with a small, close staff. One of my fellow nurses had a brother who lived in town that she was certain was my soul mate. Chris, his name was. She convinced him to come meet me, and, well, the next thing you know we were going out two, three times a week. He was simply a consummate gentleman, not like –" Treasa caught herself. "Not like some of the other men I've had relationships with. He had this way of making every moment seem special, you know?"

Molly smiled dreamily. "Oh yes, I know." The far-away expression in her eyes was extinguished. "But what happened?"

Treasa glanced down at the potion bottle in her hand. _Deflating Draught._ She put it on the shelf of useful potions. This is where the story got tricky. "I decided enough time had passed – I was ready to go back to the wizarding world, at least to stay in touch. But to do that, I had to tell Chris. At first, he didn't believe me. Told me he thought I was making it up to seem more mysterious. Then one day he came to me and said he would believe anything I told him about being magical and what have you, if I would consent to be his wife."

Molly's sigh was as gusty as a schoolgirl's. Treasa winced. "I was so shocked. I thought he would tell me he would wait until I got back. I wasn't prepared to commit to a marriage." _At least not until I knew if Severus was dead or alive._" I asked him to give me time to think about it, but he said if I left without answering him, he would take it as his answer. So I left."

"Do you regret it, dear?" Molly asked, eyes wide with sympathy.

"Perhaps. I knew I needed to come back. I knew I couldn't spend the rest of my life wondering about my other world. Chris said he would understand, but he wasn't ready to accept all of this," Treasa waved her hand at the potions cabinet. "It was the right decision to make." _Particularly since I wasn't free to marry him thanks to a certain wizard._

Molly swiped at the dusty side table again. "Well, perhaps you'll find someone in the Order who strikes your fancy," she said with as much subtlety as she could muster.

Treasa smiled faintly and reached for the next bottle. "Perhaps."

* * *

The meeting was packed. The kitchen was full of chairs, crammed around the table and in clusters outside of that circle. The members of the Order had been highly successful in their recent recruiting. After announcements and introductions, Arthur Weasley reported that all the children were safely moved into the house for the duration of the summer.

"Bill just got settled back at the Burrow," Molly whispered in Treasa's ear as Arthur reported the lack of incident on his trip to escort Hermione Granger to headquarters. "It's such a relief to know he'll be working a desk job instead of in those horrid tombs."

"Thank you, Arthur," Dumbledore said graciously as the end of the report. "Remind me I must speak to the children tonight before I leave. Now, I believe Severus has some new information for us."

The mood of the meeting instantly shifted. Treasa gnawed her lip and tried not to scowl as her husband stood. After going to all the trouble of forgetting him, she was still bound by the knowledge of their union, however much of a farce it had been. She was thankful his reputation was unchanged, it gave her a reason to appear so disgruntled when he appeared.

"The Dark Lord desires more information on Harry Potter so that he might go about destroying him with the greatest efficacy. He believes the key to this knowledge lies in a prophecy in the Department of Mysteries – one made about Potter and the Dark Lord before Potter was born. He will do whatever it takes to get that prophecy."

"How does he know about it?" Sirius called out from one of the far clusters of chairs.

Severus' voice got softer rather than louder to answer the question. "A partial version of the prophecy was reported to him soon after the prophecy was made. He has used naught but his own intellect to deduce that there is more to it, and that he must have that information."

Treasa's head came up at the mocking tone. Sirius' question had been reasonable and Severus had acted as if he was merely disrupting the meeting. Well, then, she would have something to say to him afterwards about this… this…

"The Dark Lord has not yet assigned specific wizards to attempt to retrieve the prophecy, but I must recommend keeping a close watch on the Unspeakables, particularly, and any Ministry official connected with that office."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," Sirius interjected loudly. "I could hang around the ministry as a stray."

"Forgive me, Black, but your grand disguise as a dog is of no use to you at present. The Dark Lord is aware of that particular ability and his Death Eaters will not hesitate to aim to kill if they realize who it is attempting to beg for scraps from them."

Sirius' chair scraped a little on the floor as he settled back into it. Severus' eyes glittered in a triumph that made Treasa want to spit.

"I'm sure it must be so frustrating for you to be of no real use to the order," he said silkily, letting his gaze deliberately slide away. "I wouldn't know that feeling."

Treasa gritted her teeth and cast a sidelong glance at Sirius, who looked positively murderous. If Severus thought he could get away with such blatant baiting, he had forgotten their earlier encounter. Her lips curved into a smile. She would simply have to remind him.

As soon as the meeting adjourned, she made her way to his side.

"Professor Snape, I have a few questions for you as Potions master," she said coolly, beckoning into the hallway.

Severus looked slightly bored. "Perhaps you could send me an owl. I have pressing business at the moment…"

"This won't take a moment. I have a question about some of our potion stores."

He reluctantly followed her to the corner by the staircase, away from the crowd of people in the hallway.

"Yes, Miss Shannon?"

She turned on him, eyes glinting in the gloom. "Severus Snape, you may be a filthy spy and a murderous traitor, but even you should remember common courtesy."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape asked imperturbably.

Her teeth scraped against each other. "I'll not have you taunting Sirius Black in that way. It is pathetic and beneath you, and utterly disruptive to the Order. I warned you about interfering with its success, Severus."

He glanced behind them as if checking to see if anyone had heard her using his first name alone. "And what, pray tell, will be your threat? Telling _them_ of our relationship?" Her chin came up in defiance, but he ignored it. "Do you think me swayed by any bit of gossip that might begin about me?" He snorted quietly. "Don't be absurd. And while this new devotion to Black is touching, as I recall, you were the one anxious to keep our relationship secret."

Treasa scowled at him but didn't attempt to stop him walking away. She was still standing in the corner fuming when Fred and George walked up. George was winding up a flesh-colored string.

"Treasa, I think we need to have a little chat."


	10. Chapter 9: Obscuro

Severus slid the diced aconite leaves into the cauldron to his left and turned on his heel to stir the bubbling one behind him. It was a good night - productive, quiet, with a summer storm gaining power above ground. If all went as planned, he could enjoy a chapter of the Salazar Slytherin biography Albus had given him last Christmas before he went to bed.

_Nine stirs clockwise, three counterclockwise._ He kept count absently, one eye on the flames under his second cauldron. They were charmed to slowly rise in intensity over a period of ten minutes, but he left nothing to chance. The burn paste he was stirring was for Madam Pomfrey was easily made and easily put off until closer to the start of term. The simmering cauldron on the left was for the Dark Lord, and much depended on his ability to complete this potion before his next summons. At that thought, Severus reflexively reached for his left sleeve to roll it down, then stopped himself. He only rolled his sleeves up when it the privacy of his own potions laboratory and he refused to allow his own revulsion to the Mark to impede his efficiency.

He contemplated starting a third cauldron. It was getting to be late evening, but he could afford to lose the sleep. He still had two potions to brew to fulfill his charge from the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters who were not sufficiently talented at Memory Charms had been running through Forgetfulness Potion at an alarming rate as they tracked down information on traitors in their ranks. Karkaroff was marked for death. Two other former comrades had already been disposed of. The hunters requested poisons, Phantasm Philters, anything to torture their prey beyond the quick _Avada_. Much as he attempted to foil their sadistic plans, there was a limit to how many defective potions could be explained away by oversight. He needed this batch to be flawless. He had enough secrets to keep without testing his Occlumency for another round of questioning from the Dark Lord when the potions failed.

Severus set another cauldron on his work table, sending a bottle of essence of belladonna whizzing through the air toward him with a flick toward the cabinet. He poured half the phial into the cauldron, eyes on the open potions book beside it. His lip curled slightly at the ingredient list. Nettles, four runespoor eggs, scarab beetle blood. This was a particularly nasty one. He added a dash more of the belladonna and turned to stir his burn paste.

A silvery phoenix flew down the stairs, a haunting song announcing its presence. Snape let the ladle clatter against the side of the cauldron, spitting out a curse as the bird settled on the edge of the table. One night. Just one night without interference from _either_ of his masters. Perhaps it was folly to hope for.

"Harry has been attacked by dementors in Little Whinging," came Dumbledore's voice through the Patronus. "I'm going to the Ministry right now to straighten things out. The Order will meet first thing in the morning."

The phoenix flew away before Severus had a chance to swear again. Leave it to Potter to be the one to spoil his night of freedom. He knew all too well that Dumbledore would expect information in time for that meeting. The burn paste was emitting a greenish smoke and was no longer the deep orange it was supposed to be. Snape swiped his wand at it with a vengeance, nearly cracking the cauldron with the nonverbal _Scourgify. _ Poppy would just have to wait for it.

"Let Dumbledore explain why the infirmary is bare when term begins," Severus muttered, checking his other cauldron. It was due for another simmer, so he adjusted the flames and left it for the night.

He tossed a pinch of Floo powder into his fireplace, putting just his head and shoulders inside. "Malfoy Manor, study."

In a moment the charred brick of his fireplace had given way to the pristine black marble of Lucius' mantle. As expected, the blond man sat at his desk, sipping from a wine glass and looking altogether too pleased with himself.

"Ah, Severus," he greeted, his tone warmer than Snape had heard since the Dark Lord's return. "'Tisn't often you drop in at this hour."

Snape forced a smirk. "The fumes in my laboratory were more potent than the poisons themselves. I thought you might have something more… palatable about."

Lucius preened. "Come in, then, Pour yourself something and sit while I tell you the latest development."

Severus stepped through and nodded his acquiescence. The wine cart stood within arm's reach of the desk, and Lucius waved him toward it genially.

"It is a night to celebrate," he said, his tone portentous and grating to Severus' already raw nerves.

"Indeed?" Severus looked over the selection carefully, keeping his back to Lucius. The man was no Legilimens, but Snape saw no need to tempt the man to try.

"I succeed in Imperiusing Umbridge into taking action against Potter.

Severus filled a tumbler to precisely half-full of elderberry wine. He didn't recognize the name. "Indeed?" he repeated, infusing his voice with as much interest as he could reasonably muster.

He turned to face Lucius, reading the eagerness on the pale face. "And the Dark Lord approves of this?" he questioned into the tumbler.

Lucius' lips tightened into a straight line. "He need not know if it displeases him. Something had to be done and Umbridge was ripe for the part. She's been on tenterhooks all year for Fudge to do something about Dumbledore. All I had to do was override that last little bit of caution. I daresay she'll do well for us even after the curse has worn off."

Severus sipped his wine, savoring the flavor and postponing his reaction. "Splendid."

If Lucius had noticed that his guest was only responding in single-word sentences, he made no mention of it.

"She has no idea the Dark Lord is involved, of course. To her mind, Dumbledore is simply a raving madman who is seeking to overturn her precious Ministry. All I had to do was convince her she was absolutely correct in that assessment."

Lucius went on, detailing how he had planted the idea of dementors, and apparently the job had already been done – judging by the flap at the Ministry when he left for the evening. His tale was punctuated by larger and larger swallows of the wine.

"She'll deny having any part in it, of course, so even if any suspicion falls on the Ministry, we needn't worry about being discovered. I have sources at the Daily Prophet who tell me that Fudge has been leaning on them to keep Dumbledore in disgrace."

The silence indicated Lucius now expected Severus' participation in the conversation. Severus smirked a bit. "Dumbledore is making it easy for them, isn't he? To so openly stand with Potter… it's folly."

"And just what the Dark Lord wants," Lucius reminded. "He would love to bring Dumbledore to his knees before he finishes him off. Fudge is just doing the dirty work for us."

"Any further news about the Department of Mysteries?" Severus asked, pacing toward the fireplace again.

"We have people working on the Unspeakables. The prophecies are very well guarded, and we mustn't just waltz in and take it by force. I believe we'll soon have a more exact estimate of its whereabouts."

"Oh?"

Lucius' grin was unholy with glee. "The old prophecy cataloguer is in St. Mungo's for full-time care. Poor old man is frightfully feeble and he has no family to tend him. I've already sent visitors to inquire, and Goyle is working on recruiting a healer or two. Wouldn't be bad strategy in any case."

_Treasa._ She would be in danger. Severus schooled his face into passive agreement as his mind raced. She had proven herself far too outspoken to be trusted should a Death Eater come calling – even if she should be so fortunate as to go unrecognized by whomever the Dark Lord chose to send. Like as not she'd do something ridiculous and compromise the Order in the process.

"You look terribly preoccupied, Severus. Come, have another glass and we'll celebrate Potter's catastrophe together. I daresay you're more anxious than any of us to see the boy expelled from school."

"He's earned expulsion and more by now," Severus replied automatically. "But you'll excuse me, Lucius, I'd best return to my potions. The Dark Lord will expect them soon."

Lucius raised his glass in salute – slightly cock-eyed. "Go, then. Perhaps sometime soon we'll have more freedom to use your delightful concoctions. I do believe some of our number are getting restless."

The very thought was disturbing. Snape arched an eyebrow at Lucius. "I hope that is not disapproval of the Dark Lord's plan –"

Lucius' rather tipsy laugh cut off the veiled accusation. "No, no, old friend. I merely worry about keeping everyone unoccupied for such an extended amount of time. No doubt the Dark Lord knows what he is doing. Perhaps the recruiting at St. Mungo's will ease some of the tension."

Severus stepped into the fireplace. "Indeed," he muttered even as the flames burned green around him.

He landed in his laboratory with an ignoble tumble onto the rug. After righting himself, he checked the cauldron he had left to simmer and reached for the potions cabinet to restart the burn paste. Keeping busy would be the best way to pass the long hours of the night before the meeting. There was no immediate danger, and he had a good idea of how his news would be received by the Order. Treasa would likely get her own detachment of private guards. No need for him to concern himself with direct intervention. He would hardly be expected to do so for anyone, much less the new mediwitch who seemed to spending so much time with his sworn enemy. It was a small blessing that Black had no idea who she truly was.

Severus dropped a handful of nettles into the cauldron, wincing as he realized he had forgotten the tongs. He bit his lip and indulged in a gusty sigh. His life grew more complicated by the day.


	11. Chapter 10: Diffindo

Treasa stifled a yawn as she waited on the front stoop of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Trust Dumbledore to choose a daybreak meeting in the one week she was working the graveyard shift. Her body was not adjusting well to the different hours, and by this, the third night, she was getting more than a little tired of Lockhart's night terrors. After two hours of holding a mirror to prove to Lockhart that his hair was just as "divine" as ever, she needed coffee – preferably overflowing with cream and sugar. If Molly had not thought to provide more than pumpkin juice, Treasa didn't think she should be held accountable for her actions.

A _crack _behind her alerted her to the presence of another Order member. She turned to find Emmeline Vance calmly brushing off her stately Muggle blouse and skirt.

"Good morning, Treasa," Emmeline said brightly. "Lovely day, don't you think? The sunrise was breathtaking."

Treasa made a miserable attempt to straighten her Lockhart-frazzled hair at the sight of Emmeline's pristine coif, nodding in what she hoped translated to polite agreement. She officially hated morning people – herself included. The next person to look that cheery before 6:30 a.m. deserved her eternal disdain.

The door opened just as another _crack_ brought the next member to the front walk. Arthur Weasley smiled in greeting and put a finger to his lips as he stood aside to allow them to enter. Treasa nodded and stepped over the threshold. Merlin knew she had no desire for conversation anyway, much less a diatribe from that horrid, frightening portrait.

The group filed into the kitchen where the Weasley children and Hermione Granger were finishing breakfast. Molly hovered nearby, ready to whisk their plates away and shoo them out of the kitchen as soon as the last bite was taken. Treasa slumped into a chair next to Ginny and let her head loll onto the table.

"Odd," George said around a bite of toast. "I had you pegged as an early riser – and I'm hardly ever wrong. You were definitely in the 5:45 to 6:15 range."

"If you dunna want to be hexed into absolute oblivion, you'll be silent –right now." Treasa mumbled, her brogue thicker than it had been in months.

Ginny brightened immediately. "Oh, do go on, George. I'd dearly love some new hexes."

Treasa was spared the effort of making herself come up with an interesting hex by the arrival of a cup of black coffee at her elbow. She looked up to see Molly's concerned face.

"Looking a bit peaky this morning, dearie," Molly said, patting her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Mmmhhmmm," Treasa mumbled, inhaling the pungent fumes of the brew. She would definitely need cream and sugar if she planned on drinking something this strong. "Working the night shifts at St. Mungo's this week."

Molly _tsked_ comfortingly and bustled away to greet the other Order members. Treasa looked up just in time to see Fred cast a whispered Stretching Charm on the collective plates. Ron's was still nearly a quarter full, due no doubt to the sleep still weighing at his eyes, but the other four plates' meager portions spread to fill half the space.

"Honestly, Fred, she'll just take it from you regardless," Hermione said reprovingly, pushing her plate aside. "We'll know when we're ready to know. We're too young to be in the Order anyway."

"_You_ are, maybe, but we're not," Fred countered. "We've been of age for ages –"

"Or at least months," George added.

"So you mustn't lump us in with your little underage club," Fred said, elbowing Ron. "The three of you can go play Exploding Snap or find some cleaning to do if you're so keen to be thrown out."

Treasa shook her head and staggered to her feet, more interested in getting to drink her coffee than the twins' machinations. She saw Molly coming back and, imagining the fight that would ensue, took pity on her and her own aching head. She slid her wand from her sleeve and cast a quick Shrinking Spell on the plates, reducing the food to a few barely visible crumbs. The frustrated grumbling reached her ears just as the clatter of plates signified Molly's victory.

The cream and sugar were on the sideboard, next to the silver carafe that held the rest of the coffee. Treasa reached for the sugar bowl, forcing herself not to simply dump the whole thing into the cup. As she lifted the spoon, someone bumped into her from behind, spilling sugar crystals on the soiled doilies.

"Pardon," came a most unwanted voice.

She turned to face Severus, who was calmly reaching for the carafe to pour his own cup.

"Do you take delight in goading me?" she snapped under her breath, forcing herself not to Summon the cup out of his hand as he started pouring.

"No," Severus said with infuriating poise. "I was merely apologizing for an error. I was not aware that fell under the heading of 'goading.'"

"Honestly, Severus –"

She broke off as the twins edged past, eyeing the two of them with extreme interest. It had taken a bribe of all her medical potions knowledge to keep the boys quiet about what they had overheard, but she didn't trust them to not take an opportunity to goad their Potions Master.

"Yes, Ms. Shannon?" Severus calmly took a sip of the coffee, not even grimacing at the strength of the brew.

She opened her mouth, then found herself distracted by the heavy circles under his eyes. He had gotten little sleep, if any. He'd probably been skipping meals, too – typical behavior when he was deeply involved in potion work.

He was still looking at her expectantly. Treasa set her jaw, angry at herself for falling prey to old habits. "I'll need some basic healing potions – Pepper-Up, Blood-Replenishers, Burning Bitterroot. The Order has none I'd trust to be used. I don't have a potions laboratory of my own just yet, so I must either rely on your expertise or your knowledge of where I might obtain a cauldron and supplies."

Was it her imagination, or did he flinch slightly? Treasa rolled her eyes and focused on pouring the cream into her cup. It was these blasted late hours – they were clouding her judgment. The next time a Healer asked to switch schedules, she'd politely refuse.

"I am certain a house such as this has potion-making supplies," Severus said stiffly, downing another gulp. "Why don't you ask Black? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to oblige – and at the moment I have more pressing matters to worry about than basic potions."

"Good morning, Treasa."

Sirius' cheerful voice made both of them start. He stepped to Treasa's right, edging a little closer when he saw Snape's loathing expression. "Bit early for an Order meeting, isn't it?"

Treasa smiled and raised her coffee. "Bit late for me – I've been at St. Mungo's all night and ought to be home napping."

"Well, then, I admire your fortitude in coming," Sirius said, giving her a smile of approval that warmed her heart. "That takes true devotion." He leaned in conspiratorially, "Are you sure you aren't a Gryffindor?"

"I believe her sufficiently intelligent to recall which House she was in, Black," Snape interjected heavily, "which places her above the mental realm of a Gryffindor."

"Shows how little Slytherins know, _Snivelly_," Sirius retorted.

Treasa had the distinct impression someone should step between them before they resorted to a duel. She sipped her coffee and casually stepped past both of them toward the table.

"Tell me, Sirius, does this house have a potions laboratory in the basement?"

Reluctantly, Sirius turned away from Severus and met her eyes. "I believe so, though no one's used it in well over a decade. After the meeting, what say you and I go explore it?"

Severus' mouth tightened and he stalked away. Treasa wanted to laugh, but Dumbledore's entrance brought a sudden hush on the room, reminding everyone of the message that had summoned them. Sirius' charm turned off like a switch.

"How's Harry? What have you learned? When are we getting him out of there?" The questions came rapid fire as Sirius strode toward Dumbledore.

"Patience, Sirius," Dumbledore said calmly, motioning everyone to sit. "Harry is fine. He repelled the Dementors admirably - a fully corporeal Patronus, according to the Ministry report."

The room erupted into excited whispers. Treasa slid into a seat between Minerva and Bill Weasley, catching Minerva's proud nod of approval. Dumbledore held up a hand to silence them.

"At the moment, the ministry has suspended his expulsion pending a hearing later this month. I daresay the extra time will allow some at the Ministry to regain cooler heads. Regardless, the Minister was not happy that I came to interfere. He's more certain than he was in June that I'm attempting to stir up public opinion against him so that I can become minister."

A muffled snort came from both Sirius and Severus, a happening which seemed to startle them both. Treasa hid a smile in her coffee cup. They were such children.

"At the moment, however, our concern is getting Harry out of Little Whinging. The attack proves that even with guards, he's at too great a risk to remain there."

"Where is Mundungus, anyway?" Sirius asked darkly. "I'd like a word with him."

Treasa had the feeling she'd missed something along the way as heads all around her nodded. Even Bill Weasley, who had attended fewer meetings than she, looked slightly murderous at the mention of the name.

"It will do no good to dwell on the mistakes of last night," Dumbledore said seriously.

"That's not what he said last night," Bill muttered, turning to look at McGonagall over Treasa's head.

Minerva nodded. She caught Treasa's questioning look and leaned forward to whisper, "Mundungus Fletcher was supposed to be guarding Harry. He left just before the dementors arrived. Albus nearly shouted himself hoarse over it."

Treasa winced at the idea, returning her attention to the talk around her. Sirius was all for storming the Muggle house and taking Harry immediately. Emmeline Vance suggested sending Harry a Portkey via owl. Bill offered to simply pick Harry up by Muggle car and drive him to London.

"We'll have to provide the boy more protection than that," Moody interrupted gruffly. "If we can ensure the Muggles will be gone, best thing to do would be to send a detachment to fly him back."

There was a nod of agreement from Dumbledore. "We'll need a reason for the Dursleys to be from home."

"If we could tell them they've won a prize of some kind…" suggested the young Auror with the bright pink hair.

"They'd buy that," volunteered Arthur. "They're rather gullible, these Muggles."

"Very well. Tonks, you may be in charge of coming up with the ruse. Alastor, will you lead the group to Little Whinging?" Dumbledore asked.

Moody grunted in agreement. There was an instant clamor of volunteers from all sides of the table. Sirius leapt to his feet and leaned over the table at Moody, shouting, "Merlin's beard, he's my godson, of course I'm going!"

"You're cracked if you think I'm letting you out of this house to tempt the Death Eaters _and_ the Ministry. Constant vigilance!" Moody growled back, waving a hand at the others. "Alright, pipe down, the lot of you. I'll choose who is to go after I've thought it over."

"Severus, is there anything you can tell us about this attack?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus placed his now-empty coffee cup on the table and leaned forward. "It was the result of the combined efforts of the Death Eaters and those within the Ministry. It was suggested by a Death Eater, but there are those in the Ministry who were more than willing to accept the idea."

"Such as?" Dumbledore asked quickly.

For a moment, Snape's brow knit in confusion. Then his face settled into its usual calm mask. "I have not been given specific names as yet."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. Treasa thought Severus looked slightly disconcerted, but he continued with his report.

"It is expected that several high-ranking Ministry officials will continue to block any efforts instigated by Dumbledore or his known confederates, so those who work within the Ministry," Severus paused to glance at Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley," should be even more vigilant that they are not discovered.

"As of yet, I do not know if there are Death Eaters stationed in or around Little Whinging, though I think it unlikely at the moment. However, I would suggest removing Potter sooner rather than later –"

Severus broke off, his right hand twitching over his left forearm. He cast a glance at Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Thank you, Severus. Now, Kingsley, before we adjourn to discuss the details of the plan, can you tell us more about the search for Sirius?"

Treasa didn't hear a word of Kingsley's report. Her eyes remained on Severus. His face was still masked, but there was an air of reluctance about him, his hand now clutching at his arm. She knew the signs all too well. The Dark Lord was summoning him. After several long moments, he shoved his chair back and withdrew from the room.

Treasa's gaze flicked to Sirius. He noted his antagonist's exit with a slight grin, but kept his attention mostly on Shacklebolt, who was informing them that he had hit on Tibet as the ideal location for Sirius' supposed hiding place.

"I still say he won't be coming with me," Moody growled. "There will be danger enough without bringing along a convicted felon!"

"If you think you can make me stay –" Sirius began.

"The final decision will be Alastor's and you will all abide by it," Dumbledore said sharply, his eyes wandering toward the door through which Severus had disappeared. "Whoever wants to be included in the mission may let Alastor know as soon as the meeting is adjourned. Is there anything else of urgency to be discussed this morning?"

The silence around the table was answer enough. Dumbledore nodded and stepped away. Minerva and Bill immediately jumped from their seats and headed toward Moody. Treasa kept her eyes on Dumbledore, who edged toward the door and peered into the hall before sighing and moving toward the sideboard. Severus must have gone.

She didn't notice Sirius until he sank into Bill's seat.

"Dumbledore is determined to keep me useless, I see," he said with a forced laugh.

"Not useless," Treasa consoled, casting about for something of more substance to say. "After all, if it were not for you, the Order would have no headquarters."

His mouth tightened. "Yes, I should request an Order of Merlin for that bit of help. As it is, I shall have excellent skills as a house elf if ever this war ends."

Treasa chuckled. "Wouldn't you say that cleaning this house is a bit like fighting in the war? You've already sustained some injuries."

"Mended by your capable hands," said Sirius with a mock-bow. He raised her coffee cup. "Shall I refresh this or let you go home and get some rest?"

Treasa hesitated for a moment. It was obvious her mind was in sore need of some rest – her interactions with Severus were proof enough of that. On the other hand… here before her was a charming man who obviously wished to spend more time with her. Perhaps this would be the best thing to drive the phantoms of her marriage from her mind.

She nodded. Sirius grinned and hastened away. The seats on either side of her were instantly claimed by Fred and George.

"Need us to distract Sirius for you, Treasa?" George asked.

"We can, you know – just give us the nod," Fred echoed. "You looked a bit cornered just now."

She shook her head. "Thank you, boys, but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Sirius and I have a potions laboratory to set up."

"When it's set up, you'll show us those Blood-Replenishing ingredients, right?" Fred asked anxiously. "We'll need them before we head back to school."

Treasa nodded. "Now get on with you. I'll not be showing you anything today."

George looked over at Sirius, who had just turned back toward the table. "Remember – just give us the nod."

She shooed them away with a laugh as Sirius returned. He handed her the cup and stood with an obvious air of anticipation as she took a sip. It was just the right temperature, but a bit sweet for her taste. She swallowed and gave a nod.

"Perfect."


	12. Chapter 11: Petrificus

Severus had the span of perhaps three seconds to berate himself for not remembering the Ministry official's name before all of his focus came to rest on the group gathered in what appeared to be the Malfoy dungeons. There were only a few – Crabbe, Avery, Nott and Pettigrew stood with their backs to him. Lucius stood facing the door, his usual suave demeanor rather more harried and anxious as he kept his eyes on the wizard to his right. The Dark Lord stood with arms crossed, tapping his wand against the back of his left arm. The fact that he stood in the middle of the dungeon rather than held court abovestairs was enough of a warning. Severus blocked out all memories of the Order meeting and advanced, kneeling as soon as he was within the circle.

"My Lord."

"Up, Severus."

The order was curtly given, but the anger in the Dark Lord's voice had none of the icy sting that signaled trouble. Severus rose, eyeing the group for a hint as to where his place was this time. Voldemort flicked his wand to his right, red eyes cutting around the group to see if anyone dared protest the move. Lucius' skin grew a shade paler, and Severus couldn't help but wonder if it was fear or anger that drained his face.

_Envy me not, Lucius, _Severus thought as he felt the subtle intrusion of the Dark Lord. Images of his potions laboratory, of the empty bottle of hellebore he had noted needed replacing, of the book sitting by his armchair flitted through his mind. Nothing else was safe to be released. Merlin's beard, but his life was a tedious thing.

"Your dedication is exemplary," the Dark Lord commented casually as the connection was severed. His eyes narrowed. "Something I wish I could say of others in our assembly."

As if in response to the veiled threat, Macnair and Goyle Apparated into the dungeons seconds apart from each other. Goyle was still in a night robe and his bloodshot eyes suggested an evening spent in a pub. Macnair looked slightly more alert, but infinitely more concerned at being the last to appear. They advanced and made their obeisance, wincing as they were silently ordered to their places by a flick of the bone-white wand.

"Death Eaters, I received word last night of a rather interesting development, and I suspect one of you knows more about it than I."

There was a nervous shifting around the circle. Severus controlled the urge to glance at Lucius. He could imagine just how white Malfoy had gone. The Dark Lord would surely have read at least a portion of the tale before the meeting truly began. Lucius' powers as an Occlumens had never been strong.

"Something has happened to The Boy Who Lived, and I want to know which of you instigated the attack."

Silence. Something dripped in the depths of the dungeon. The Dark Lord paced around the circle, fixing each in turn with a penetrating glare that each endured with silent grimaces. When angry, the Dark Lord lost much of his finesse with Legilimency. Snape was grateful that Lucius was before him in the circle. As expected, it took only a few moments before Lucius fell to his knees.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I thought only of advancing your cause."

"_Crucio."_

The gathered Death Eaters watched, unmoved, as their companion writhed on the dungeon floor. The curse lasted perhaps thirty seconds, then the Dark Lord turned to pace away from Malfoy's prostrate form.

"You are fortunate, Death Eater, that your plan went no worse than it did. "

"But, the boy will soon be defenseless before you, my Lord," Lucius panted. "Dumbledore has had to use what little influence he has left to secure the boy's future at Hogwarts, and I am certain that those within the Ministry who are loyal to us will work to ensure his expulsion. With his wand broken, the boy cannot hope to – "

"Silence." The Dark Lord turned on his heel, peering at Lucius as if he were some vermin to be stamped out. "As I have said, it is fortunate that your plan succeeded as well as it did. I expect you to work to ensure its continued success. We must have both Dumbledore and the boy."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said, scrambling to his feet.

"I will accept no further insubordination, Death Eaters," the Dark Lord proclaimed, now addressing the circle at large. "I have been merciful in giving you time to return to my complete service, but the time for mercy is at an end. You have sworn your loyalty to me and I will not hesitate to exact the full measure of that oath."

Severus clamped down his mental shields as the Dark Lord turned to look at him. The red eyes were curiously bright, as if he had reason to gloat over his Potions Master. The idea sent a chill through Snape that he tried to ignore. He, after all, stood the heaviest chance of failing to fulfill his oath to the Dark Lord's satisfaction.

"Now, begone, all of you, and be about your work."

The circle quickly dispersed. Goyle and Nott Disapparated instantly. Macnair took only a moment longer to certain it was safe to leave before he, too, disappeared from the dungeon. Snape made ready to Apparate, only to feel the pressure of the Dark Lord's wand on his left arm, keeping him firmly in place.

"Are the potions complete, Severus?"

Severus closed his eyes. So he had not been wrong in interpreting that look.

"Most of them, my Lord. Unfortunately, the Healer at Hogwarts also expects a large order of potions before the beginning of term, so my attention has been divided –"

"Tut, Severus, surely you don't expect me to believe that a shriveled old mediwitch's bidding is more important than mine?"

"No, indeed, my Lord. I have only two potions left to complete and will bring them to you as soon as they are done."

"I think not."

The Dark Lord's nearly-flippant tone was startling.

"But- My Lord, surely –"

"Oh, you shall finish the potions, Severus. I just think you will have more incentive to complete them if you are here, where your attention is less… _divided._"

Severus tightened his jaw. He had much to report to Dumbledore before Potter was to be rescued – and he had not delivered the message about St. Mungo's as yet. If Treasa were found out, it would be catastrophe for the both of them.

"Is there a problem, Severus?"

"No," Severus said quietly, his tone even and low. "Not at all, my Lord."

"Queen's knight to D5."

Snape pursed his lips as the black knight half-heartedly engaged Draco's bishop. The set was obviously well-trained by its owner. He raised an eyebrow and looked at the blonde boy seated across from him.

"Should I simply resign now?"

Draco chuckled. "I've had this set for a long time."

"Obviously."

It was after dinner in Malfoy Manor, and Lucius had persuaded him to stay in the drawing room after the meal to "spend some time with the family." Severus had been a frequent visitor to the manor through the years, and knew it would be more trouble than it was worth to try to refuse. The two cauldrons had to simmer overnight anyway, so his one great excuse was no shield. He desperately needed to get back to his own laboratory, contact Dumbledore – but at the moment all he could do was play Wizard's Chess with Draco and suffer humiliating defeat at the hands of his pupil.

Draco's bishop handily took out a pawn. Severus rubbed his right temple in irritation, glancing at Lucius and Narcissa, who were calmly perusing the Daily Prophet by the fire. He buried the frustration with a long sigh, absently sending another pawn forward to be taken by Draco.

"You know, Draco, it is often better strategy to let your opponent think they have the advantage in order to obtain a more complete victory," Severus said as his castle lost a fight with Draco's pawn. _Not to mention playing the game rather than simply obliterating your opponent. _

Draco laughed again. "Father always said you were the master strategist at school, even as a first year."

Lucius looked up from the paper. "He beat a fifth year in the Slytherin Dueling Club just after Christmas holidays that year." Draco turned, eyes alight with curiosity and Lucius hurriedly added, "No, it wasn't me – though we had a few duels that were Slytherin lore for a while. No, it was…"

"Julius Nigellus," Severus filled in, half-smiling at the memory. He didn't add that he had chosen Julius because he had jinxed Lily Evans in the hall earlier that day, but the satisfaction of beating the boy was still potent.

Draco moved his queen forward and Snape spared the board a second glance to see if he could sneak something in. It was possible… if Draco didn't notice his king's knight over to the side. It would take some time, though, and Severus had little patience for the game when there were so many things he needed to be doing.

"Why don't we have a Dueling Club now?" Draco asked.

"Slughorn disbanded it in my sixth year because some fool tried an Unforgiveable within his hearing," Severus replied. "No student has ever approached me to have it reinstated."

_Nor would I agree to it with a war about to begin. All the half-bloods would have to go into hiding._

"Draco has been practicing for years. You remember his second year when that idiot –"

"Lockhart," Draco and Severus supplied.

"Insufferable man." Lucius shuddered, glancing at Severus, "Though, all things considered, not the worst of Dumbledore's picks for Defense teacher."

Severus grimaced. _If you'll remember, Lucius, you made sure Lockhart wasn't our biggest problem that year._

Draco moved, but his attention was no longer on the game.

"Professor, do you know who will be teaching Defense this year?"

Severus shrugged. "I know Alastor Moody has declined to take the position again – though he really never had it in the first place."

He joined in the laughter from the other occupants of the room, but the subject reminded him yet again of how much he had to do. Lucius looked contemplative.

"Dumbledore hasn't said anything about a new Defense professor?"

Severus' jaw flexed. He knew that gleam all too well.

"Well, certainly not to me. I won't deny the subject is rather sore between the two of us."

Lucius raised his eyebrows and nodded, returning his attention to the paper. Severus had the distinct impression a new plot was brewing under that blonde hair. _Just once, learn from your mistakes, Lucius._ His friend had yet to learn the art of _not _using a connection available to him.

Draco had taken his queen when he wasn't looking. Severus pursed his lips, eyeing the board. He was in check, and the chances of him overcoming with this set were not good. He cast one mock-scathing glance at Draco and toppled his king.

"You weren't checkmated yet, sir," Draco said in surprise, disappointment giving him something of a pout.

"I know when the best strategy is simply to concede," Severus told him. "Another time you will not be so fortunate."

Draco nodded and started picking up the pieces. Severus stood and paced toward the fire, weighing his options. He had to get a message to Dumbledore quickly.

"Lucius, there are several ingredients for the Dark Lord's potion that aren't in your cupboards. I'll need them by morning. Do you suppose the Dark Lord would consider it disobedience to go myself or must I send someone to retrieve them?"

"Shall I send Tilly to your laboratory?" Lucius offered.

"Forgive me, Lucius, but your house elves have done little to convince me of their trustworthiness," Severus said smoothly. "I'll take the Floo and be back within minutes."

Lucius nodded to the jar on the mantel. "Go ahead. If the Dark Lord should question, I'll tell him of my plans for trapping Potter."

Severus stilled. "Oh?"

"I plan to suggest placing several of our best around Potter's house in case Dumbledore attempts to spirit the boy away."

"Indeed." Severus forced a tight smile. "If you want the Dark Lord to agree, I would recommend waiting until he is less irritated by the dementor attack. At least until he's less likely to punish anyone who speaks."

Lucius glanced over at Draco and nodded.

Moments later, Severus was composing a note to Dumbledore in his laboratory.

_Death Eaters interested in old prophecy-keeper in St. Mungo's. Warn Ms. Shannon to change work schedule to non-visiting hours to avoid detection. No Death Eaters stationed in Little Whinging at present but Potter must be removed before the end of the week. At Malfoys until potions complete. Will call meeting when free to leave._

He sealed the envelope and held it out. "Fawkes!"

With a burst of flame and scarlet plumage, Fawkes swooped into the laboratory. Thankful for the convenience Dumbledore extended to the Order, Snape handed the envelope to the phoenix. The bird disappeared, leaving behind a single scarlet feather.

Severus dove into the cabinet, coming up with a bottle of Erumpent fluid and a bag of lacewing flies. Lucius wouldn't stock either of those, and if he didn't return within moments, his old prefect would get very suspicious. He took a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the grate. With any luck, Draco wouldn't have another chance to trap him into Wizard's Chess before he got to leave.


	13. Chapter 12: Specialis Revelio

**Author's Note**: Thank you to everyone for your patience. I've had a really rough few weeks and haven't had time to write. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Four shelves were stocked with potions ingredients, and the three cauldrons all had separate spaces on the table. It had only taken three afternoons of cleaning with Sirius and the Weasley children to get the basement useable again. Treasa straightened the bags of scarab beetles and peppermint sprigs in approval. It was by far the best potions laboratory she had seen since – since she had lived with Severus.

She resolutely took down a jar of diced dragon hearts, keeping her focus on the job to hand. She needed Blood-Replenishers and Strengthening Solutions as quickly as possible. She'd managed to set up the Strengthening Solutions on the first afternoon and the matured concoctions were ready to be completed –assuming, of course, that something hadn't fallen into them during the massive cleaning project.

She stirred the two cauldrons, watching the liquid with a critical eye. Yes, it looked ready. The expedition to retrieve Harry Potter was to take place tonight, and there was no telling how much work she would have when they returned. Alastor Moody had insisted on a round dozen to make the journey, darkly hinting that that should be enough to carry the journey most of the way.

The thought was sobering. It was one thing to join the Order and agree to finally fight back against Lord Voldemort – quite another to deal with the aftermath of such fighting. It had been years since she'd last been exposed to Voldemort's sadistic work, and she'd never been given the responsibility of attempting to undo it.

Treasa dumped the jar into the empty third cauldron, starting the flames on low. The hearts had to simmer alone in the pot for an hour before the next ingredient could be added. In the meantime, she had pickled murtlap tentacles to strain and pomegranates to juice. She conjured a vial to hold the murtlap liquid and set the tentacles to squeezing themselves. The pomegranates required more attention.

She had purchased them on her way from St. Mungo's, and had extracted the pips before re-starting the flames under the Strengthening Solutions. Now she just had to juice them. Treasa put the pips into a bag and carefully began to press on them – one at a time, using the pads of her fingers. After a moment, she opened the bag and stuck a finger in to sample the juice. Strong, with only an edge of bitterness. The pomegranate juice on Diagon Alley was diluted with a sweetener to hide the bitterness caused by too much abrasion to the pips during mass-juicing. Doing it herself would take longer, but the end result was much more potent.

Her fingers stilled over the bag. Severus had taught her that.

She resolutely returned to pressing the pips, keeping her touch light and gentle despite the tension that was locking up her shoulders. Unbidden, the memory sprang to the forefront of her mind. It had been perhaps two months after their wedding…

* * *

She had never visited the potions laboratory. Since the wedding, she'd kept mostly to the drawing room and the suite she shared with Severus. The man grew more confusing by the day. He was polite enough in his way, made an effort to speak at meal time, and more often than not slept in the dungeons – to keep an eye on his potions, he said. Treasa was growing tired of the stilted conversations and long hours alone. Neither of them had chosen this. The least they could do was try to make it bearable.

The dungeon was an assault on the senses. It was chilly, and at least one of the cauldrons set up was emitting a foul-smelling smoke. She could almost taste the ginger root in the air. The room was arranged with three long tables crosswise in the middle, and dozens of cabinets around the walls. Each table had four cauldrons on it, and from the looks of things, there was something in each cauldron. Severus was hunched over the far end of the middle table, attention completely on whatever he was preparing for the cauldron.

"Severus?"

He didn't answer, but then, she hadn't spoken loudly, and the bubbling, hissing and crackling might have obscured her voice. Treasa set her jaw and headed across the room. She'd come this far, and she wasn't leaving until they had talked or he had thrown her out.

He jumped when her shadow fell across the table. The eyes that met hers were inscrutable, but the grip he had on the knife in his hand told her he was less than pleased with the intrusion.

"Do you need something?"

His voice had trailed off at the end, as if he was debating what to call her. The lack of a title stung that much more. She hesitated, and he returned his attention to the ginger roots in front of him. Treasa lifted her chin and pressed onward.

"Yes, I do."

Severus looked up again, his hair hanging in limp strands across his face. Treasa, resisting the urge to tell him to bathe more often, was struck by the air of defiance cloaking him. It was practically an emotional Impedimenta, shoving her back from the table.

"Yes?" He questioned as her silence lingered.

"I think we need to talk, Severus," she began bravely, keeping her chin high as his eyes narrowed.

His head jerked down to the roots on his cutting board. "I'm busy. Can it wait until dinner?"

"And when dinner comes, what will we talk of? The weather? The vintage of the wine?" She was gaining confidence. "Or perhaps a lengthy discourse on how I spent my day – wandering around the house, reading one of the exactly 12 books in your library that are not potion-making treatises or histories of the Dark Arts, or perhaps 'getting settled in' by reorganizing my robes for the twentieth time."

Severus muttered something into his cutting board.

"What was that?" she demanded.

He lifted his head, and this time there was no denying the spark in his eye. "I said, 'I apologize for the lack of reading material,' but I had little say in the contents of the library."

"Heirloom?"

Severus shook his head. "This house and most of its furnishings was a wedding present from the Malfoys and Lestranges. My own home is a little flat in a Muggle neighborhood and Lucius informed me that it was no place to start a marriage."

His teeth ground together suddenly, and Treasa couldn't help but wonder if it was due to Lucius' posturing or the mention of the word "marriage."

"The house did seem a bit… ostentatious for your taste," she ventured, more gently this time.

He snorted. "The potions laboratory is finer than any I've ever worked in. The rest is of little importance."

He sliced the ginger root longwise with particular vengeance, turning it to complete the quartering process. To her surprise, he then proceeded to quarter each piece before dropping them into the cauldron.

"Meticulous," she muttered, somewhat impressed despite herself.

"The shape of the ginger root makes it difficult to get uniform pieces by quartering alone," Severus said with the impatient tone of a busy adult talking to an inquisitive child. "By cutting them this way, the pieces are more likely to dissolve at the same rate, which creates a much smoother consistency."

He looked up as if daring her to contradict him. "Contrary to the beliefs of most, there are many ways in which published potion recipes can be refined."

"I took my Potions NEWTS with you, I remember how often you 'refined' your potions." Treasa paced over to the next cauldron, leaning over to examine the turquoise liquid. "Professor Slughorn thought you were a genius."

"Horace Slughorn is a dithering fool," Severus rejoined, moving to the same cauldron on his side of the table. He took the ladle and made a slow circuit of the edge, forcing Treasa to lean back. "He knows a good potion when he sees one, but it takes both hands and a ladle to be sure."

"Professor Slughorn is one of the most accomplished Potions Masters in the country."

"Only because I haven't taken the certification exams yet."

Treasa let out an indignant snort. The gall of the man! "Well, it is a comfort to know that your ego is intact, whatever else may be missing from your personality."

Severus merely smirked and turned his back on her to check a cauldron behind him. Treasa rounded the edge of the table, intent on continuing the debate.

"Tell me, Severus, is it terribly trying for you to be so brilliant and yet so… unknown?" she asked, acid heavy in her tone. "Does the lack of daily homage offend you?"

"I have all the recognition I require," Severus said, raising the flames on the cauldron until the potion within began to bubble. "I've been chosen by the Dark Lord himself to be Potions Master for his Death Eaters."

"Oh, indeed," Treasa said bitterly. "If one has the approval of Lord Voldemort, can there be a need for anything else?"

Severus turned to face her, his face completely shuttered. "Indeed."

She flinched slightly with the weight of the word. Apparently Severus had decided it was true for him – if Lord Voldemort was to be believed that the man had chosen devotion to him over his love for a woman. The thought deflated her rising anger.

"Severus," she tried again, reaching toward his elbow. He surreptitiously moved out of reach, so her fingers met only air. "I didn't come down here to pick a fight. Quite the contrary, actually."

Severus made a noise in the back of his throat that was as ambiguous as the expression on his face.

"I know that marrying me was no more your idea of bliss than marrying you was for me. I've no doubt you see me as a nuisance at best – but we're going to be living here together for a very long time, and there's no reason why we shouldn't make the best of it, you know."

"Have you any reason to complain of your treatment?" Severus asked tightly, stepping around her to go to the next table. He stopped at the corner and turned to look at her. "Have I ever harmed or threatened you in any way?"

"No, of course not," Treasa said immediately, shocked at the question.

"Have you wanted for any necessities – food, clothing, shelter?"

"No."

He nodded and turned on his heel. "Then I see no reason why things should change." He stopped at the closest cauldron and sniffed suspiciously at the smoke before adding some powdered asphodel to the brew.

Treasa stood where he had walked away from her, stunned at the completely dismissive way he rejected her offer. So, she was doomed to this polite disdain for years to come. The disappointment was absolute and chilling. She peered into the cauldron in front of her, willing the tears back into the corners of her eyes. The greenish-yellow liquid was clearly a Strengthening Solution in its final stages. She glanced at the ingredients grouped around the cauldron. Something was missing.

She cleared her throat hesitantly. "Severus, I think this is almost ready for the pomegranate juice – and I don't see any laid out. Should I fetch some from the cabinet for you?"

Severus turned around and bent over the cauldron. When he raised his eyes, a touch of the ice seemed to have melted. "Thank you. I would hate to lose three days of work."

She smiled in response, and he immediately reverted to his usual brusque manner.

"The pomegranates on the third shelf of the first cupboard."

Treasa hastened to the cabinet, searching for the tall thin bottles of pomegranate juice she knew so well. Instead, a pile of whole pomegranates took up the majority of the shelf.

"The potion requires juice, not the whole fruit," Treasa protested, turning from the cabinet with a pomegranate in hand. "Or is this another one of your 'refinements'?"

"In a manner of speaking," Severus said distractedly, conjuring a bag with a sealing top. "Bring two, please."

She brought the fruit and watched as he quickly and efficiently opened them and removed the pips. As he put them into the bag, she got up the nerve to speak.

"You do know that they sell pomegranate _juice _in Diagon Alley, don't you?"

He laid the bag down, spreading the pips out so that none of them were touching before looking up with an irritated scowl.

Treasa raised her hands in defeat. "It would save you so much time to buy it already juiced."

"And it would produce inferior potions," Severus rejoined, pressing on the pips with a gentleness that seemed oddly incongruous with the man's typical behavior.

Treasa cocked her head and waited. Sure enough, after several moments of silence, Severus looked up to explain, though his fingers were still carefully mashing the seeds.

"The suppliers on Diagon Alley mass-juice their pomegranates in a giant press that bruises the fruit as it juices. The result is a bottle of incredibly bitter juice. To counteract that, most of the shopkeepers add a sweetener to the juice, further diluting its potency."

He held out the bag, now half-full with juice. "Taste it. You'll be able to tell the difference with just a drop."

Intrigued, she dipped her finger in. The juice was full-bodied and sweet, with only an edge of bitterness. Treasa raised her eyebrows and met Severus' triumphant gaze.

"I'm convinced."

Severus snorted and took the bag to the cauldron to pour it in. "As it should be."

He looked up again, and for a moment, something other than cynicism and bitterness softened the hard edges of his eyes. Treasa held the gaze, trying to read it. There was something indescribably lonely about his expression, a feeling she understood all too well.

"Severus," she began, stepping closer.

He backed away as if she had him at wandpoint, face suddenly completely closed again. He turned and grabbed a ladle, stirring the nearest cauldron with a stiff arm. "If you'd like to purchase some new books, you're welcome to use the Floo to get anywhere. I have protection charms on the network so we will have no unexpected callers, but I can set up a password for you, if you like."

She set her jaw and headed for the stairs. "Don't trouble yourself."

* * *

The dragon hearts were bubbling nicely and the pomegranate juice had long since been dispersed to its cauldrons, along with the murtlap essence. Treasa took down the bottle of fluxweed nectar and began measuring the drams she would need for her Blood-Replenisher. She had more important things to do than relive the past.


	14. Chapter 13: Cave Inimicum

There was something infinitely comforting about lying down on his own bed. Severus threw himself onto the firm mattress with a gusty sigh that nearly snuffed the candle on the bedside table. The next time the Dark Lord insisted he stay at the Malfoys', he might be forced to poison himself to get out of it. _A swallow or two of monkshood would do the trick,_ he thought with a harsh, mirthless laugh.

It was well after midnight, and he'd only just arrived home. After forcing himself through two days of Lucius' preening, Draco's scheming, and the Dark Lord's ever-present watchfulness, his mental shields were near cracking – along with his sanity. Severus brought his fist to his forehead with a groan, grinding his knuckles against the center of the splitting headache that had not abated in 24 hours. His swift transition from Malfoy Manor to Grimmauld Place had done nothing to alleviate the strain on his mind.

Nothing. That's what the great champions of Dumbledore had done while he'd been trapped. No contacts made, no information discovered, no changes made. Treasa hadn't even bothered to put in for a shift change, even though she admitted Dumbledore had contacted her regarding the danger. There was more than a hint of stubbornness about her as she announced she planned to keep her current schedule. Foolish woman. She was doing it to spite him, proving she didn't trust him. Her obstinance could very well cost her her life, and Severus's in the bargain. Once the Dark Lord discovered that he knew she was alive…

Severus swung himself upright, legs over the edge of the bed. He held his life at little value regardless. Since the Dark Lord's return, he'd not trade it for the price of the ink and quill to write his epitaph – brief though it would be. _Here lies Severus Snape. _Yes, that would cover it nicely.

He paced toward the potions cabinet. Dumbledore had laughed at his concerns when he showed up at Hogwarts to complain. Since the elder wizard had not bothered to attend the meeting, Severus had had to seek him out. The sight of Dumbledore examining expense reports in his office had been the final straw…

"Do you really have so much faith in your little heroes, Albus?" Severus snapped as he stepped through the Floo unannounced.

Dumbledore looked up with a calm, welcoming smile. "Certainly."

"And you believe it justified?"

"You are in a better position than I to answer that question, Severus," Dumbledore said, looking over his spectacles at him. "Is my faith in you justified?"

"It won't be much longer if you don't get your minions to do more than meet in Black's stinkhole and talk about Potter's safety. You do know that the war will involve more than just that boy, don't you?"

Dumbledore put the papers down with a protracted sigh. "Yes, and yet everything hinges on the boy, does it not? Tell me honestly if Voldemort's every move does not still center on Harry."

Severus quelled the desire to spit as the bile rose in his throat. Yes, yes, it was true. It seemed the world truly did turn on the boy's whim.

"Then it is this weakness that we should exploit," he spat out. "The Dark Lord is singularly focused on him. We should be using this time to amass followers, supplies – not fall into the same stupid trap."

"Things are difficult for us right now, Severus," Albus said with the placating tone that never failed to set Severus' teeth on edge. He held up a different sheet of paper and spoke again in an increasingly cheerful tone. "I've officially been removed as Chief Warlock for the Wizengamot."

Severus turned on his heel to face Dumbledore. "What?"

"Oh yes," Albus tapped the page with his wand and it floated over to Severus' outstretched hand. "Cornelius threatened as much two weeks ago when I met with him and his senior cabinet about Voldemort. I confess I didn't expect it to happen so quickly."

Severus skimmed the page, jaw tightening as he read the officious language. "I suppose your intervention with Potter sped the process along."

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore agreed, dropping the infuriating smile. "Which means they wish me to be out of the way before the hearing."

"Do the others know? Arthur, Shacklebolt?" Severus' mind was already jumping to possible solutions, but none were forthcoming.

Albus nodded. "I stopped by and told them the day after you were called – when I delivered your message to Miss Shannon. I believe the children were particularly upset with the news."

"No doubt. They probably thought it meant you were to be removed from the Chocolate Frog cards," Severus sneered.

"They were at that; young Mr. Weasley most of all, I think." He passed a hand over his face. "Tell me, what did you learn at Lucius' manor?"

Severus threw himself into the chair across from the desk, sending the letter back toward the older wizard with more force than was necessary. He knew the question was a fair one, but it wasn't the one he wanted to hear.

"Aside from the fact that Lucius intends to find your new Defense professor for you, not much," Severus said heavily. "The Dark Lord kept a close watch on me throughout the brewing process, so either someone is attempting to take over my position within the Death Eaters or I was simply the most convenient target for his paranoia this week."

Albus cocked his head slightly in surprise at the dry sarcasm. Severus was not in the habit of using it when speaking of his other master. He gritted his teeth, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes. Let the old man draw his own conclusions. He was sick to death of the both of them.

"The potions I handed over were a perfect batch, so you should be looking for some cases of extreme hallucinations and altered memory to show up at St. Mungo's – and probably twice as many murders."

"Any idea who?"

Severus shook his head. "The Dark Lord wouldn't risk putting all the information in the hands of one person. He knows better than to extend that kind of power to any of us."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll alert Miss Shannon to be on the lookout –"

"Speaking of our young mediwitch, she told me tonight that she will not change her shifts. You _did_ tell her that Death Eaters will be coming to her ward, didn't you?" Severus attempted to recreate the same dry tone he had just employed, but found it rather lacking.

Albus had apparently noticed as well. "I gave her the message, yes. She didn't seem overly concerned. It _has_ been over a decade since any of Voldemort's followers have seen her – perhaps they will not recognize her."

"She's a fool."

Too late, Severus checked the emotion behind the words. He kept his eyes on the rug, tracing the path of the purple threads through the blue and silver mosaic. He could feel Dumbledore evaluating his reaction. Desperately, he made an effort to cover.

"Treasa Shannon made many powerful enemies. I don't know the exact nature of the dispute, but I know that most of the inner circle was most anxious for her death. Unless she wants to oblige them, she should stop being so stubborn."

He risked a glance at Dumbledore, who was observing him, that insufferable twinkle back in his eye.

"I've noticed you seem to take an eager interest in Miss Shannon."

"What?" Severus snorted, immediately invoking his Occlumency shields. His headache jumped in intensity, but he felt slightly calmer with those memories buried. "Don't be absurd, Albus."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Tell me, Severus, is it her stubbornness that attracts you, or the fact that Sirius seems to have taken an interest in her?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Black takes an interest in most single witches, does he not? I believe I heard him attempting to flirt with Minerva tonight."

"I'd say the poor man deserves a little happiness after twelve years in Azkaban."

Severus got to his feet. "And those of us who were smart enough to avoid the dementors' hospitality are simply to smile and pat him on the head for his idiocy?"

Dumbledore leaned back and watched him pace toward the Floo. "Perhaps. Are you leaving?"

"I haven't slept in approximately 30 hours. I'd like to get back to my own house before I fall asleep on your rug." Severus pressed his forefinger against the throbbing center of the pain between his eyes. "I'd recommend pushing Miss Shannon to change her shifts unless you want to recruit a new mediwitch within the week."

Dumbledore reached for another expense report and nodded. "Would you deliver the message tomorrow, Severus?

Severus snatched the vial of Dreamless Sleep from the top shelf. He paced back toward his bed, taking a healthy swig. With any luck, the potion would take effect before he had time to ruminate much more. He was fairly certain his head would split if he didn't get some sleep soon, and the prospect of his visit to St. Mungo's was not aiding his pursuit of rest.

He threw himself on the bed on top of the covers and released another sigh, letting his eyelids grow heavy. One last groan escaped.

"Damn Albus."

He couldn't remember the last time he had visited St. Mungo's. The sight of the waiting room alone was enough to remind him why he had ignored Slughorn's recommendation that he become a Healer. Severus strode through the waiting area, pausing only long enough to ascertain that Treasa's ward was on the fourth floor. He had no patience for talking to people.

The door to the ward was locked, but his reflexive _Alohomora_ worked, rather to his surprise. He stepped through the door, snorting softly. St. Mungo's was about as secure as a Muggle house.

Treasa was bending over a patient, adjusting sheets and blankets. As she stood, straightening the bouquet of flowers on the table, she caught sight of him.

"Severus!" she hissed, eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed the sudden dark intruder.

"I'm here to deliver a message from Dumbledore, nothing more," Severus said, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, I have no intention of coming any closer, and my wand is stored."

Treasa eyed him warily, a rather odd smile on her face. She nodded toward the bed. "You're lucky Gilderoy is napping. I daresay he could have chased you away before I had to do anything."

Severus controlled the urge to jump as he realized that Treasa's patient was indeed the idiot Lockhart. _Figures he would end up here. Probably the only place in the Wizarding World that could handle him._

"Can we talk freely here?"

Treasa nodded, stepping away from the bed. "Fewer lucid people here than anywhere else in the building. Those that can actually pay attention won't care to or understand."

"Very well." Severus nodded, reaching into his robes. Treasa tucked her hand into her own robes and half-withdrew her wand. He rolled his eyes and took out several vials. "Your trust is truly touching. Dumbledore has requested me to remind you of the need for a different work arrangement. Since you seemed so set against changing your schedule –"

"I don't see why I should run from the little –"

"- I propose an alternative," Severus completed his sentence icily, holding the vials out to her. "Polyjuice potion. Keep a vial on hand for each shift. If you see anyone who looks suspicious, you can stay out of their way until they leave. I trust you remember the faces of those most likely to harm you."

Treasa reached for the vials with a dubious expression. "_This_ is your grand plan?"

"It will work, since your common sense seems to be flagging." Severus said sharply. "I would assume you aren't anxious to meet any of the Death Eaters in your usual form."

"There are protections on this place," Treasa said defiantly. "I'll be fine without your interference."

"Yes, protections like the lock on the door to this ward that I could have opened in my sleep?" Severus said, irony heavy in his voice. The woman was extraordinarily hard-headed

Treasa looked down at the vials, apparently weighing something in her mind. She looked up, as if about to speak, when her face blanched. Severus turned to see a face framed in the doorway.

_Macnair._


	15. Chapter 14: Colloportus updated!

There was a superior smirk Treasa would have loved to slap off Severus' face, but she didn't have the time. She stepped back and grasped the curtain beside Lockhart's bed.

"So help me, if you don't cover for me..." she hissed.

Severus took the curtain and shoved it around. The bottom of the heavy fabric hit his leg with a thwack that would have to suffice for her revenge. She edged silently around to the far side of the bed, blessing the healer who had begun prescribing Dreamless Sleep to counteract Lockhart's night terrors. The effects lasted well into the morning, so she need not fear an outburst from the man. She crouched, concentrating on Macnair's hobbling footsteps.

"Snape." Macnair's voice was cold. "I was given to understand that I was the only one assigned to -"

"I was given to understand that a certain amount of watchfulness would be appreciated, given the recent... sloppiness of our people," Severus replied with lazy sarcasm. "No need to feel slighted, you know."

Treasa could almost hear Macnair's face turning red. If she could have kicked Severus' shin without detection, she would have. He wasn't supposed to bait the man, he was supposed to get him out of the way.

"Since you seem to know much more than I, tell me - which of these is Bilbius?" Macnair snapped.

Severus hesitated an inordinately long time. "There was no healer on duty when I arrived, so I've been checking charts. It's no one on that side of the ward."

Gilderoy snorted in his sleep. Treasa clutched the vials in one hand and reached up to pat his arm.

"What about behind this curtain?"

Treasa kept the scream in her chest with some difficulty. Macnair's boots appeared at the bottom of the curtain, only to be replaced by Severus' swirling robes.

"I wouldn't disturb him if I were you, Macnair," he said quickly, the sarcasm noticeably absent from his voice.

"Why in blazes not? I won't be made to look the fool by you, Snape."

The shuffling of feet told her Macnair intended to open the curtain regardless of Severus' objections. Her eyes landed on the pile of patient robes on the bedside table. Gilderoy was so fussy about his clothes that they kept spares on hand. She looked down at the vials in her hand and grimaced as the idea surfaced.

"The man is a lunatic who thinks I'm a long-lost brother or some rubbish. I had to deal with him when I arrived, but I'll not do it again today."

"Or it's Bilbius and you're keeping him from me, Snape."

Severus snorted. "Don't be absurd. As if I'd bother trying to sabotage_ you_."

_Careful, Severus,_ Treasa thought as she snatched at the patient robe, wriggling into it as silently as possible.

"I haven't checked the far end of this side," Severus was saying, his footsteps leading to the far back of the room.

_Bless you, _Treasa thought, meaning it for the first time she could remember. If he kept this up, she wouldn't have to resort to her plan. She held her breath, waiting.

"Put your wand away, Macnair."

Treasa's heart pounded anew. Severus' voice was calm, but very, very quiet.

"I told you, Snape, I'll have none of your meddling."

"Oh, put it away, man," Severus said with infinite boredom. "Do you really want to try to hurt me here in St. Mungo's? This place has more protections on it than Hogwarts itself."

He was bluffing - ludicrously at that. It was that realization that made her decision. She reached up and plucked a wavy golden hair from Lockhart's temple.

The transformation was stranger than she recalled. Her only experience had been in NEWT level Potions when Slughorn had been persuaded to let them try it out. She stayed as still as possible, even though she knew the men's attention had been attracted by the noise.

"I've warned you, Macnair, the man is more trouble than you'll care to deal with," Severus was saying, feet stubbornly planted by the curtain."And I shan't lift a finger to help."

Treasa took a deep breath and leapt to her feet, pulling back the curtain just as Macnair made to reach past Severus for it.

"Visitors!" She squealed in Lockhart's voice, clapping her hands. She bounded forward, careful to close the curtain behind her. "It's been ever so long since I've had any, and now there are two of you! Splendid, splendid."

Severus was squinting at her as if trying to decide who she really was. Macnair looked horror-stricken.

"Ah," she made to go to Severus, then paused. "Do I know you? You seem familiar to me..." She furrowed her brow, smoothing the short blonde hair in the meantime. "Well, no doubt you know who _I_ am, right? Very unkind to forget such a mentor as I undoubtedly was to you."

She rushed forward, hand outstretched. Severus drew back, something like real fear in his eyes. Treasa resisted the urge to laugh. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. Macnair was slowly backing toward the door. She darted after him, grabbing his arm.

"And you brought a new friend, to. Come, tell me about yourself. Of course, our mutual friend here..." she let her voice trail off as if trying to recall his name, "will have told you about me, but I'm not averse to adding to what you already know."

"Get away from me, you imbecile," Macnair growled, jerking away. "Come along, Snape, I'll come again soon."

"Leaving already?" Treasa let her chin quiver as she'd seen Gilderoy do so many times. "Come now, don't go. I haven't even told you any of my adventures yet!"

She grabbed Severus' sleeve entreatingly. The look he gave her left her in no doubt he was convinced who she really was. He broke free of her grip and strode to the door, Macnair at his heels. Treasa waited to the count of five after the door closed to break into a peal of laughter. That had been absurdly easy.

Several of the patients looked askance at her, but most turned away when they realized it was Lockhart. She turned back to the bed, only to see Lockhart wide awake and staring at her in horror.

"It can't be," he whispered, face crumbling in absolute despair.

Treasa hurried to his side. "Now, now, Gilderoy, calm down. No need to kick up a fuss."

To her surprise, he reached up and grabbed her in a fierce hug. "I have a twin!"

* * *

"Now that would have been a show I'd pay to see," George howled.

"And how," Fred chimed in, giving Treasa his butterbeer in admiration. "Did you tell him he's the bad seed?"

Treasa took a swig of the butterbeer to steady herself after her own laughing fit. "No, indeed. I told him it was a vision of himself and must know that his behavior in the ward is disturbing the other patients and inconveniencing the healers. He's been as meek as a lamb since then and it has been a blessed change."

The twins burst into laughter again. The story had made the rounds several times over the last two weeks, but the twins insisted on hearing it directly from her. Tonight wasn't an official Order meeting, but she'd decided it was better to spend the evening in a safehouse rather than alone in her flat. A few others were gathered around the table – Bill and Arthur Weasley, Kingsley and Severus were at the other end of the table, pouring over a map of the Ministry. Molly just left to walk Minerva to the door and then convince Ginny to pack for school, and Sirius had gone to check on Buckbeak. She'd been contemplating leaving herself when the twins settled in the chairs around her and begged for the story.

Lupin cut in on the conversation from his seat two chairs down. "You've put in for a shift change now, haven't you?"

Treasa nodded, laughter dying in her chest. "I start night rotation day after tomorrow."

She said it loud enough that Severus could hear. As much as she hated to admit it, he was responsible for her narrow escape. No doubt he'd been gloating about it since it happened.

He glanced her way before resuming his examination of the map. Treasa suppressed a chuckle. Then again, it had only been a few weeks. He might need months to forgive her the humiliation.

She turned back to the twins, determined to ignore Severus as much as he seemed intent on ignoring her. "Are you packed for school?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "We won't leave for another… oh –"

"14 hours or so," George supplied. "You can't really expect us to have packed."

Treasa laughed. "How silly of me. Alright then, any idea of who your new Defense professor will be?"

"Not an inkling," George said regretfully. "Can't seem to catch Dumbledore to ask him, and McGonagall said we'll find out with the rest of the students."

"_Professor_ Mcgonagall, boys," Lupin chided. "I hope you two realize that living here for the summer doesn't mean you treat your teachers disrespectfully."

The twins looked at each other, nodded to Lupin, and excused themselves. Treasa watched them go, then quirked an eyebrow at Lupin.

"You don't actually expect them to listen to you, do you?"

Lupin gave a surprisingly boyish grin. "Oh, I suppose not."

"Bit like being a prefect again, eh?" Treasa said, tipping the butterbeer for another drink.

"I doubt your Ravenclaws were as bad as my house," Lupin countered, reaching for one of the bottles in the center of the table. "You didn't have to report your best friends for rule breaking."

Treasa shrugged her acknowledgement. "No, but oh, the debates we would have over what constituted an infraction, how much leniency was extended to NEWTS students, if OWLS students with more than five exams were allowed the same – I thought I'd go insane."

"Well, it's obvious you didn't," Sirius' voice came in her ear. He settled into the chair between her and Lupin, casually stretching his arms so they rested on the backs of both chairs.

Treas smirked, but didn't move away. "It's a wonder poor Remus didn't go insane, though. I recall your name being bandied about in the prefect meetings quite a bit."

"The lad tried, what more could be done?" Sirius' eyes landed on Severus, then returned to Treasa twinkling more than they had been. "Tell me again about Lockhart and Macnair. I dearly would have loved to have been there."

Treasa followed his glance and pursed her lips. "You've heard it twice, and I, for one, and sick of the story."

It wasn't really to protect Severus' feelings, she told herself. Sirius took far too much pleasure from the story, considering her own embarrassing role. Besides, they had other things to discuss.

"What are your plans now school is beginning?"

Sirius face darkened. "Dumbledore has forbidden me to leave this house, so I'm to stay, play messenger boy when need be," his voice took on a sanctimonious ring, "Consider my future, think on my past choices, and decide to be a very, very good boy from here on."

"Dumbledore didn't tell you to do all that," Treasa said, mock-sternly. "Even _he_ isn't that optimistic."

"It would shock you to know just how optimistic the man can be," Severus put in from his spot down the table.

"No one asked your opinion, Sev- Professor," Treasa covered quickly. Sirius was intent only on Severus, a murderous glint in his eye. Lupin had raised his eyebrows, but slightly, but gave no other indication anything was wrong.

The group at the other end of the table broke up, and Severus swept by, casting a scorching glance at the three of them. Treasa edged a little closer to Sirius, returning the glare. So much for protecting his feelings.

"I suggested Sirius could take a turn as Defense professor and see how long he lasts," Lupin said, breaking the tense silence with a chuckle.

"I say I could break that one-year curse," Sirius insisted grumpily. "Then maybe Harry could get some steady Defense training."

"Yes, before or after the ministry sends you straight back to Azkaban?" Lupin countered, covering his frustration almost completely.

Sirius flashed him a look that startled Treasa with its fire. "I'm not so much better off here, am I?"

Remus' knuckles tightened on his bottle. Treasa leaned slightly away from Sirius, keeping her focus on the tension between them. It was obviously not a new fight. Sirius settled back in his chair, face set in such intense frustration and misery that she couldn't help but forgive him the petulance. She still agreed with Dumbledore, but seeing the effects of prudence on the man was difficult.

She stood, setting her bottle on the table. "I should go."

Sirius jolted to his feet, nearly stuttering in his haste. "Dinner hasn't even been served. Surely you're staying…"

"It's your last night with the children," she countered evenly. "You'll want to spend time with them. "

"Well, yes, of course, but that doesn't mean you have to eat alone in your flat," Sirius protested, regaining the suave charm he used so well. "If you leave now, we'll all just worry, and you know how Molly gets when she worries."

He was grinning at her. She was a far, far too susceptible to that grin.

"I doubt anything will happen. Between the two of us, we've come up with enough wards to keep You-Know-Who himself out for a good long while," she tried again, proud of the rationality in her tone.

He just smiled, adding a touch of pleading in his eyes. "Give a man a fair chance, Miss Shannon. I can't offer to escort you home, so the least you can do is allow me to provide you with dinner."

A not-so-discreet cough from behind them startled them both. Treasa clenched her jaw even before she turned to see Severus observing them with a curled lip. She knew that disdainful sound.

"It would appear the lady wants to go home. If you're worried about her safety, Black, I could always escort her."

Sirius stepped in front of Treasa. "I wouldn't trust her with you for a moment."

Severus rolled his eyes. "As I recall, I was the one who provided the potion that saved her life not long ago. What have you done lately?"

"Didn't you just leave, Snivelly?" Sirius spat back. "Couldn't bear to stop by without insulting me at least once?"

"I was coming back to check a point or two of our plan with Arthur Weasley," Severus countered in a bored tone. "As for insulting you…" he shrugged. "I was merely stating facts."

A knot was tightening in Treasa's stomach. She was angrier at Severus than ever, and yet, he _had_ protected her. She rubbed her left ring finger with her thumb, considering. She could hardly stay with Severus glowering at them.

She stepped between the two men. "I'm going home."

Severus smirked. "Very well, if you'll just wait a moment, I'll be free to –"

Treasa shook her head, casting an apologetic glance at Sirius. "I'm going alone." She narrowed her eyes at Severus, cutting off his objection. "Don't try to follow me."


	16. Chapter 15: Glisseo

**Happy Hallows release in 36 hours, everyone!**

* * *

Severus left the Slytherin common room to return to his own chambers, having delivered his typical start-of-year lecture and avoided any conversations with the students. The other heads of house chose a more individualized method of governing their respective students, but Severus wanted his Slytherins to understand from the first what was expected and what they could expect.

His rules were simple. If cheating was attempted, it had better be successful enough that he never heard of it. The same standard applied to general rule-breaking. If a student was sent to his office for such an offense because it was poorly executed, they could expect no quarter. That rule was always accompanied by regretful nods from the upperclassmen and wide eyes from the first-years. It was an effective way to manage behavior. They were Slytherins. They were sorted based on personal ambition and cunning. Telling them not to attempt to break the rules would be hypocritical and pointless. Severus had no interest in training up angels, only successful Slytherins. Those that did not yet possess the skills to apply their ambition and cunning would quickly learn from those who did – with little involvement from their head of house.

His last rule always brought a cheer, even from first-years. No matter what the task – always beat Gryffindor. The age-old rivalry was felt by all, and he wanted them to understand immediately that their path to success did _not_ lead toward ending it. He smirked. Despite all her lofty morals, Minerva would no more have the competition end than he would. It would be a form of admitting defeat, something neither of their houses would stand for.

Draco had attempted to catch his eye as he turned to go, but Severus had enough on his mind without attempting to deal with the boy's favor-seeking. He'd admonished the students to get to bed early and left as quickly as possible. His one refuge at Hogwarts was the little suite of rooms just off the dormitory, and at the moment, he was in desperate need of some refuge.

_Umbridge_. Of all Lucius' tricks, this one was nearly unforgivable. That squeaky little creampuff teaching a sterilized curriculum that a five-year-old would turn up his nose at. But she had come straight to him before the faculty meeting that afternoon, cooing that Lucius Malfoy had told her Severus would be a good source of information and assistance if needed, and she had no doubt they would be excellent friends. Severus had merely stared at her, quelling a dozen murderous urges before giving a curt nod and walking away.

Severus curled his lip. It was one thing to simply find someone to take the Defense job, quite another to then insinuate that he would be a good resource for the person who had taken the position he'd been denied twelve times. The Dark Lord's original intent had been to install Severus in the post, but it quickly became clear than nothing short of an Imperio would convince the headmaster to acquiesce – and the idea of anyone, even the Dark Lord, holding Albus Dumbledore under an Imperius Curse was laughable.

A stack of syllabi lay on his desk, the NEWT level one on top. He had intended to revise it this year, add a few more projects that would require the students to go beyond the printed recipes and delve into an understanding of how the ingredients reacted with one another. After the faculty meeting he'd simply not had the stomach for it, and he was hardly in the mood now. Still, he didn't want to start the year without at least reviewing the upper level requirements. The few students he'd had who were truly devoted to the art of potions had done this work independently, but he saw no reason why the less invested should be allowed to malinger.

The fire flamed green as he moved toward his desk. Severus held his breath for a long moment. If it was Albus, he would simply come in regardless of invitation. If it was anyone else, his grate was protected so that visitors must first request permission before invading his quarters. If he ignored the message, he could work in peace. A horrid image of Umbridge waiting by her mantel with that ridiculous tiny grin was enough to send him several steps away from the fireplace. Another green flare stopped him. Whoever it was, they were persistent.

He turned on his heel and strode to the mantel, stooping to collect the two parchments that had landed on the rug.

_Severus, I'd like a word. Minerva._

He scoffed at the imperious tone. It had taken Minerva almost a decade to stop treating him like a student, and their uneasy camaraderie of recent years tended to fade when she was under stress or worried about her Gryffindor brats.

The second parchment was even more dictatorial.

_It's imperative that we speak before tomorrow. M._

He sighed and reached for the jar of Floo Powder. It seemed unavoidable, and this was preferable to Minerva appealing to Dumbledore. He poked his head in and connected to her office. She was in the act of putting a third note into the grate when his face appeared. The parchment caught him full in the face with surprising force. Severus caught the missive and crumpled it, scowling at the woman.

She added insult to injury by giving a surprised, barking laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't expect you to answer."

He raised an eyebrow. "You said it was imperative."

"That's never made a difference before, young man," Minerva said in her best Head-of-House scolding tone. When he merely raised the other eyebrow, her reproving frown slipped a bit. "Forgive me, Severus, I didn't intend to start a quarrel."

She rarely apologized for comments such as that. Severus took a second look at her, noting the knitted brow that usually spelled trouble for some unfortunate. The severe look was tempered by the worry in her eyes, the generally unsettled demeanor that rather startled him. Minerva was a worrywart and an inexorable disciplinarian, but it was difficult to shake the stolid core that made her beloved and feared by the students.

He pursed his lips and jerked his head back into the Floo."Come through. We can talk more privately in my apartments."

Minerva came with a teakettle grasped in one hand. "Don't smirk like that. I'm in need of some tea to settle myself before bed and I doubted _you'd_ have any to offer."

Severus silently indicated the small cabinet by the fireplace as he seated himself. Containers of tea and coffee blends lined the two shelves within. "I'm a potions master. Brewing is a hobby."

"Twenty years I've known you, Severus, and you still manage to surprise me at least once a year," Minerva said, placing her kettle on the fire.

He couldn't read her tone. There was an undertone of true, pleasant surprise, but a heavy dose of frustration and suspicion overshadowed it. He sidestepped the comment. "You sound as if you could use some syrup of hellebore added to that."

"No, thank you, I've no time to wait for the effects to wear off," Minerva countered snappishly. "That Umbridge woman would probably insinuate I was a drunk if she saw me."

"I presume your desire to talk stems from her presence," Severus stated, not really needing an answer.

Minerva stopped fidgeting with the kettle and turned to face him. "She's up to no good, Severus. I can feel it. And all that yammering about perfecting what ought to be perfected and pruning bad practices – she might as well have accused us all of subverting the Ministry outright."

"Would she be wrong if she did?" Severus pointed out calmly. He had his own reasons to dislike Umbridge, but he was enjoying his upper hand with Minerva. It was a rare treat.

She didn't even acknowledge the barb. "Albus has been so close-mouthed lately. He's been focused on finding out about Hagrid, and Remus' work with the werewolves, but he won't spare a moment to speak to me about Dolores Umbridge and her position here."

The teakettle gave a piercing whistle. Minerva removed it from the fire and glanced about for a cup. Severus conjured one and sent it across the room to her, still waiting for Minerva to continue.

"And that lovely speech she gave in faculty assembly about how Fudge is hopeful this will lead to increased cooperation between the Ministry and Hogwarts, and how our continued lack of collaboration has been a detriment to our students – "

"Yes, Minerva, I was there as well," Severus interjected, losing patience with her babbling.

Minerva took a sip of her tea, regaining a fragment of her usual authoritative persona. "I need to know about her, Severus. Is she a Death Eater? Are we inviting You-Know-Who into our midst by welcoming her?"

"She's no Death Eater," Severus said simply. "I do know she's been a near-fanatical supporter of Fudge since he came into office, and has been anti-Dumbledore for some time before the events of this summer."

Minerva nodded, settling into the chair across from him. "I looked her up in the records here. She graduated in '69, must have been a year or two before you came. She was a Slytherin prefect for one term, but then was demoted because of discrimination and overly-harsh measures against muggle-borns and half-bloods."

"I suspect that is when her objections to Dumbledore began," Severus put in. He leaned forward, not waiting for Minerva to start another rant. "She has Cornelius Fudge's ear, and she wants to be able to use it. The best thing you can do is get your little lion cubs to stay out of her way until this flap with Dumbledore has settled down. The Ministry isn't just disgruntled with an eccentricity this time – the Dark Lord's power is growing there by the day. "

"Only my lion cubs, eh?" Minerva gave a disgruntled sniff.

"Your house is notorious for a lack of good judgement," Severus said bluntly. He raised four fingers, ticking off one at a time as he continued. "The Ravenclaws are too clever to openly defy her. The Hufflepuffs will put more effort into keeping the peace than into subverting her. The Slytherins," he allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction, "will more than likely become her greatest supporters. We already have an advantage with house allegiance." His eyes narrowed on Minerva. "So, yes, that leaves only Gryffindor to create trouble."

Minerva seemed to wilt before his eyes. "Hermione Granger has already come to me asking about Umbridge. If only she could convince the Weasleys and Potter to keep their tempers, I'd worry a great deal less."

Severus rolled his eyes and stood, hoping Minerva would take the hint. "You are duty-bound to worry as long as there are troublemakers in your house – which means _you_ will always have cause to worry. Warn your students about her, and be prepared to smooth ruffled feathers when the time comes."

"As if I'd smooth her mincing little feathers," Minerva muttered, more to herself than to Severus. "All that baby talk and those hideous pink cardigans -"

Severus sighed, making an impatient motion toward the Floo as Minerva babbled. "Is it any wonder your students behave as they do?"

That silenced her. With an indignant _hmph_ that left him in no doubt she would be prepared to squelch any Gryffindorian uprisings, she collected her kettle and stepped through the grate to her own quarters.

Severus turned back to his desk, eyeing the stack of syllabi. His NEWT students could go one more year without the alterations. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget that the pink-swathed monstrosity was happily ensconced in the office that rightfully should have been his.

His dreams were troubled. They began with Umbridge interrupting his Potions lecture to ask about the difference between a Grindylow and a Red Cap. He attempted to answer with something properly biting, but Potter jumped up and shouted that he thought Umbridge was a Death Eater because Hagrid hadn't returned. Supremely annoyed at the absurdity of the boy's reasoning, he Silenced the boy with a rush of pardonable elation, and returned his attention to Umbridge to order her out. Instead of the squat woman, Minerva stood before him, lioness face in full-wrinkle, taking him to task for singling Harry out for punishment when the boy was clearly a saint – like all Gryffindors.

"Oh indeed, and are you this year's beauty queen?" Severus snapped.

Minerva's lips thinned. "Detention, Mr. Snape."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, only to look down and find himself in the much-mended robes of his student years. Minerva nodded briskly and stalked away, leaving Severus to reorient himself. He was just outside the Great Hall, and from the looks of the other students, it was perhaps his sixth year. He took a step forward, searching the crowd. There. A flash of that deep red hair he knew so well. He pushed several smaller students aside.

"Lily!"

She didn't turn around, merely continued her conversation with the girl by her side. Severus ducked around a few other students and reached her. She kept her back turned. He took her arm, forcing her to look at him.

"Lily."

Treasa Shannon's resigned face met his. He recoiled instantly. They were standing in Lucius Malfoy's drawing room, and the Dark Lord was hovering over his shoulder, quite pleased with himself.

"You see, Severus, I considered your tastes when I selected her," he hissed.

Severus swallowed the bile in his throat. "Yes, my lord."

Voldemort disappeared, and they were alone in the manor house. Treasa was pacing in front of him, obviously trying to choose her words for something. Severus could see himself as if he were a spectator to the scene. Young Severus looked bored and mildly detached from the situation.

"I've already offered an apology for the lack of entertainment. Is there more we should discuss?" young Severus asked. "As you know, I've potions brewing."

_And a class to teach,_ Severus mentally added, eyeing Treasa as she half-nodded, half-hesitated in response._ Why would I be recalling this moment?_

"I… I just want you to know…" Treasa stuttered, looking alarmingly as if she might cry.

Young Severus narrowed his eyes. As little as he knew his wife, he knew this was uncommon behavior. With a sigh and an eye-roll, he silently cast the incantation. _Legilimens._

Instantly, he was in their bedchamber, watching himself reach out in his sleep, muttering one word. _Lily. _The scene changed to the Dark Lord's face. "_"Let me make myself clear, Miss Shannon. I require a pureblood witch to marry a Death Eater who has, unfortunately, developed an interest in a mudblood. He is faithful to me and I wish to reward him for his decision – and you are the witch I have selected."_

He withdrew from her mind instantly, gazing in horror at her tear-brightened eyes. It felt as if the entire edifice of his adult life was about to crumble around him.

"I-I understand," Treasa managed.

"Hem, hem," came a sound from behind Severus. He turned from the scene to find Umbridge watching with great interest. "Is there a reason you've kept your marriage a secret, Professor Snape?" asked the sickly sweet voice. "Perhaps this is something we should consider carefully. If the relationship is not conducive to your work at Hogwarts, perhaps it should be… hem, terminated."

She giggled. Severus reached for his wand, intent on hexing her to Salem and back, when he felt the Dark Mark on his arm burn. He clutched at the pain, only too aware that Umbridge was eyeing him with great interest. She opened her mouth to speak, and Severus finally wrenched himself awake.

His fingers were digging into his arm, but his first realization was that the Mark hadn't actually burned. His second realization was that he was nearly mummified in his sheets. By the time he'd managed to extricate himself, the dull, pounding headache that accompanied a poor night's sleep was in full swing.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers to his temples. Reliving that particular set of memories never failed to take a toll on him. He despised himself for the weakness, but had yet to overcome his horror that _she_ knew his secret – had known since before the wedding. He increased the pressure to the point of pain, forcing the memories back into their hiding places in his mind. There had been worse beginnings to a first day of term, but for the moment, he couldn't think of a single one. He considered skipping breakfast, but had the distinct, unpleasant notion that his absence would be noticed and commented upon by Umbridge.

"Albus, I hope you know what you've let us all in for," he muttered to the empty room. "Meddlesome witch."

The day passed with no greater incident than a note from Lucius Malfoy requesting he visit that evening. He'd been seated next to Umbridge at breakfast and dinner, and had managed to pull off an imitation of civility that would have impressed Albus, had the man been paying the slightest attention to anything besides the food on his plate and the various correspondences he received at the meals. The only relief he'd had all day was a chance to take Potter to task for a poorly made potion.

There was a certain feeling of relief that accompanied his Apparition to Malfoy Manor. Despite the fact he could not protest the method of Umbridge's placement, he had no compulsions against voicing his opinions of the woman's attitude - and of the rest of the Hogwarts staff.

Narcissa answered his knock with a cool smile and a question about Draco's welfare. Severus answered with as little irritation in his voice as he could muster. Madam Malfoy had two chief concerns in her life – the advancement of her family socially, and the well-being of her son. After answering countless owls Draco's first term, Severus had agreed to give a report when he was invited to the manor in return for Narcissa limiting her correspondence.

"Is his class load too heavy?" she pressed after he assured her Draco was in good health. "It _is_ his OWL year, after all."

"He'll do well if he applies himself," Severus replied.

Narcissa stared at him, her face a sculpture of refined concern. "Do you have any doubts?"

"It's the first day of classes, Narcissa. I'll know better after some time has passed."

"Is he handling the responsibilities of prefect well?" Narcissa asked as they headed down the hall to Lucius' study.

Severus thought for a long moment. So far, Draco had given one first year detention for not clearing a path for the older students, and threatened several students of other houses for various non-existent violations.

"He'll make his father proud, I wager," he said finally.

Narcissa's smile warmed. "I'm so thankful you're there to keep a good eye on him. Draco has nothing but the highest praise for you."

Severus merely bowed slightly in acknowledgement, edging closer to Lucius' door. This wasn't a strain of conversation he intended to continue if he could help it. Narcissa nodded and motioned him forward, turning back toward the drawing room.

He knocked, but heard no answer. After a second attempt, he simply turned the knob and went in.

Lucius' wand was trained on him from a few paces away. Severus' own wand was in his hand before he fully registered the threat. He stepped into the room, keeping the wand down and to the side until he knew Lucius' intentions.

A jet of blue light erupted from Lucius' wand from his non-verbal hex .Severus flicked his wand upward, casting a _Protego_ to deflect. The spell rebounded into a book case, sending two volumes to the floor. Lucius advanced a step, another silent spell glancing from his wand. Severus' quick dodge to the left saved him. He cast a Stinging Hex, the first that came to mind. Lucius blocked it and sent two more jinxes in quick succession. Severus' shield charm sent both back at his opponent, who ducked them. A yellow jet of light whizzed past Severus' ear and into the family portrait on the wall – eliciting angry shouts from the Malfoy ancestors. He shot an _Expelliarmus _without taking time to aim. The spell ricocheted off the end table, setting it on two legs and sending the cut-glass bowl to the floor.

Lucius cut his eyes to the disturbance. The momentary distraction gave Severus a chance to cast a second Disarming Spell, this one with enough force to rock his opponent on his heels. The wand arced through the air and landed squarely between the two combatants. Severus kept his wand at the ready and met Lucius' coolly amused gaze, resisting the urge to toss another curse at him.

"Care to explain?"

"Come, Severus, you can't tell me this is unexpected," Lucius drawled in that calculated smooth tone that usually boded ill. He stepped forward and reclaimed his wand. "After your little escapade at St. Mungo's."

Severus' chest hollowed out at the words. "St. Mungo's?"

"I've been talking to Macnair. Seems the Dark Lord was quite _put out_ with how long it took him to speak with Bilbius," Lucius said, his smirk leaving no doubt as to how the Dark Lord had vented his frustration. "But when Macnair got a chance to speak, he said that his first attempt failed because you all but chased him out of the ward."

"Macnair should stick to executing animals. He has no understanding of a being with human intelligence," Severus scoffed, burying all other reactions. "If it's taken him this long with that old prophecy-keeper, my run-in with him can hardly be blamed."

"Indeed." The cut-glass bowl was levitating back onto the end table. Lucius never broke his focus on it. "Though it might make one wonder why you were so anxious to visit St. Mungo's at all."

The hollow in his chest turned cold. "Is it considered off limits to us?"

"Macnair seemed to think you were looking for someone," Lucius said, turning to face Severus. "Naturally, I looked into the matter to see if there were any old enemies of yours lurking about the hospital. No patients that I could find. The staff records are much more difficult to access, so I wondered if you could just save me the trouble by telling me who you were going to see."

Severus raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a convincingly bored expression. "And while you're at it, you should try to get the Hogwarts prospectives list from Minerva McGonagall to see if there are any students I might want to keep from coming to school next year. Must everything have ulterior motives with you?"

Lucius smiled. "Yes. So many things do, you understand, that it's merely habit. And I can't fathom why you would bother going to St. Mungo's just to irritate Macnair."

"Has he finally managed to locate the old fellow?" Severus asked, interrupting Lucius' appraisal of him.

Lucius took the tangent, much to Severus' relief. "Yes, but Bilbius has been frightfully uncooperative. Macnair thinks some more _persuasive_ tactics would work, so he's planning a raid to kidnap him sometime later this month."

Severus snorted. "Abduct a patient from St. Mungo's in broad daylight? Has he gone mad?"

"Not broad daylight," Lucius corrected. "During the night shift."

The cold hollow plummeted from Severus' chest to his toes. He drew in a deceptively normal breath and released it, nodding his alleged approval to the plan. Lucius' smile when from calculating to self-satisfied. He motioned Severus toward the wine cart.

"But enough of Macnair. Come, tell me what you think of Umbridge."


	17. Chapter 16: Evanesco

The ward was quiet. Gilderoy had just dropped out of his snoring stage into the deepest of the Dreamless Sleep. It was the part of the night that Treasa detested. Nothing to be done but pace up and down between the beds, straightening sheets and replenishing water glasses. The 'very witching hour of the night,' as the Muggles called it, was actually painfully boring.

She straightened the curtains around two adjacent empty beds. This week had not been an easy one. Two days ago she'd been called in to cover part of the afternoon shift because dear old Fiona Featherton had passed on. The feisty witch had been consigned to St. Mungo's by her children when she reached the venerable age of 170 and refused to give up Apparating. After several mild splinchings, her children had sent her to St. Mungo's with three irrevocably splinched toes and an extremely generous donation to the hospital in exchange for round-the-clock supervision. Treasa would miss Fiona's late night antics – chasing a 170-year-old sleepwalking witch around the ward at least helped pass the time. But she'd died peacefully, a mischievous little smile still on her lips when Treasa helped lay her out.

That death had been followed the next night by old Bilbius Farscythe. The Unspeakable had been declining for weeks, but none of them realized how bad he had become until Treasa found him stiff and still in his bed at the end of her shift. She felt guilty for the small measure of relief mixed with the sadness. Bilbius had been the reason the Death Eaters came every day. Perhaps, now that the poor old man was gone, she wouldn't have to keep hiding. Every time the thought occurred, she quashed it, focusing instead on working with her other patients and providing the best care she could muster. She knew better than to believe that any decision about her work was to be made unilaterally now that she was a member of the Order. She'd sent a letter to Dumbledore the morning after Bilbius died. It was up to him to decide where she was most useful.

She paced back up the ward, checking every chart and patient. Five weeks on the night shift and she was teetering on the brink of madness. Waiting was not a skill she'd spent time cultivating. She was much more adept at acting, even if the action was futile. Her mother had said it was this odd characteristic that fueled her desire to work in the Incurables ward. Treasa grimaced. That was perhaps part of it, but her parents had never understood the deeper desire to help those others could not. She pulled Gilderoy's blanket closer to his chin, stretching the wrinkles out of the fabric, and arranged the water glasses on the bedside table so they were in a perfectly straight line. Then again, perhaps her mother was right.

Alice Longbottom's chart had a note that the last of the candy her son had brought be staggered over the next few days. Treasa sighed, looking at the twisted wax-paper pieces scattered across the bedspread. Neville Longbottom had come with a mountain of sweets on the morning school began, and the Healers had been doling it out bit by bit to give Alice more time to enjoy her son's generosity.

"Your favorite, Alice," she said brightly, picking one up to examine it in the moonlight from the window. "Neville always brings plenty of Droobles, doesn't he?"

Alice's face lit up and she nodded. Treasa smiled, patting her friend's arm. She'd seen Neville once this summer, on the lad's birthday in July. The impulse to speak to him had been instantly quelled by the dour appearance of Madam Longbottom at his side. Besides, he'd probably not take much comfort from hearing that his mother's schoolchum was sorry his parents were worse than dead.

Alice had been having moments of clarity. The occasional comment, a memory she was able to tell, a response to a Healer's question, an overall more lucid demeanor – the Healers were undecided whether this was a sign of improvement or merely incidental. Treasa had had the good fortune to experience a few such moments and had chosen only to hope for the next one rather than build theories on their significance.

She settled on the edge of the bed, pointing out the window. "It's a full moon tonight. Pretty, don't you think?"

Alice followed her gaze and nodded eagerly, but her eyes were empty. "Lovely."

A small sigh escaped. "Yes, it is."

Alice settled back on her pillows, a peaceful, delighted smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Even at Hogwarts, she'd spent many nights at the windows of Ravenclaw Tower, "listening to the moon," as she called it. Treasa rubbed her forefinger and thumb along her brows, flinching at the memories.

"We used to sit like this, you and I," she said quietly. "Any time one of us had a problem, we'd crawl into that bay window in our dormitory and whisper about it all night. The first time you realized you had a crush on Frank –"

There was a soft laugh from Alice. Treasa whipped her head around. Alice was looking over at her husband and then back to Treasa with girlish diffidence.

"It took me three nights of talking to convince you to give him a chance," Treasa continued, hope rising. "You were so worried about dating a Gryffindor – thought no one but a Ravenclaw could understand you."

No response other than another blush from Alice, whose attention had been diverted back to the moon.

"Then when we were all in NEWT Potions together and he said the Amortentia smelled like your delphinium perfume – actually said it out for the whole class to hear! I thought you were going to faint right then, for certain." Treasa relished the memory, letting the years slip away with a giggle. "O'course, later, I thought you'd never stop _talking_ about it. The rest of the class was properly impressed, too. Lily Evans was all agog - I think James was afraid he'd have to propose in the Great Hall at dinner, just to keep up. He wasn't the only one with a bad reaction to it, I might add –"

"Severus."

This time Treasa jumped. Alice was looking at her with the knowing smile she had worn in Ravenclaw Tower.

"Severus looked as if he would vomit right into his cauldron," Alice said, her voice stronger and clearer than Treasa had heard it in a decade.

"I'm surprised you had eyes for anyone but Frank," Treasa teased breathlessly, watching her face for a hint of the cloudiness to return.

Alice leaned forward. "I didn't – _you_ told me later. You noticed him quite a bit that first term of NEWTS."

"Why I –"

"Don't deny it! You couldn't when I asked you about it then, you know. It wasn't until you caught him trying to hex James and Frank behind Slughorn's back that you stopped trying to 'befriend' him."

Alice's giggle was achingly familiar. As uncomfortable as the subject was, Treasa refused to let the moment end. "I just thought that if he had some friends outside of those horrid Slytherin boys…"

"He'd turn out to be a very sweet little genius who needed a girl like you to make him happy and teach him how to get along with others?"

Treasa could feel the blush building over her ears and spreading to her cheeks. "Not at all." Alice merely grinned and looked back at the moon. "He seemed lonely, is all. I thought perhaps if he had friends who weren't obsessed with the Dark Arts, he might be less…" Her voice trailed off. She'd never been able to put a word to what she hoped he'd be. She'd given up looking for one before Christmas holidays their sixth year, and had spent the last 18 months of their schooling content to acknowledge his existence only when forced.

She gritted her teeth. "Besides, we were talking of you and Frank."

Alice didn't respond. Treasa leaned forward. Her friend's eyes were cloudy, her expression blandly happy.

"The moon is lovely," Alice murmured, turning unrecognizing eyes on her.

"Yes, it is."

She ought to mark the incident on Alice's chart. Treasa stood, Summoning the clipboard from the foot of the bed. The quill hovered over the page for a long moment. How did one clinically describe that Alice had been Alice again? Not just as an answer to a question, but by her own volition.

A silvery flash by the door interrupted her musing. A phoenix Patronus was skimming through the crack in the doorframe and gliding toward her. She recognized it before Dumbledore's voice sounded.

"Death Eaters are on their way. Order members will try to intercept them. Hide immediately."

The clipboard and quill dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. The Patronus vaporized as she fumbled in her apron pockets. She hadn't brought a vial of Polyjuice – she'd quit carrying it after she'd switched to night shifts. Almost without her willing it, her feet began to move toward the door at the other end of the ward. Perhaps she could make it to another floor before they arrived…

Alice let out a startled cry as the light from the window was blotted out. Treasa clutched her wand and turned as the Death Eaters broke the window by Alice's bed and swarmed in. She ducked next to one of the beds, hoping beyond hope that the Order would arrive before they made it to where she hid. Even with the masks, she recognized Macnair and Nott, both of whom would recognize her instantly. Four other figures were with them – easily enough to overpower all the Healers in the building, even if she could somehow contact them.

They ignored Alice's frightened babbling, much to Treasa's relief, heading instead for the curtained-off bed that had been Bilbius's. It was dangerously close to the one she was hiding beside – only one down and against the other wall. She clutched her wand, desperately trying to think of a hex or jinx that would stop them. Nothing she could think of was strong enough without being disastrous to more than just the Death Eaters in the ward.

"Where's the Healer?" One of the masked figured muttered, his voice deep and unfamiliar. "Didn't they tell us to keep an eye out for the night Healer?"

Macnair answered. "Sweep the ward. If there is a Healer in here, we need to find him and wipe his memory before we leave with the old Secret-Keeper."

Treasa barely had time to wonder what their reaction would be when they realized Bilbius wasn't in the ward before the crashing sounds of more people coming in through the window distracted them all. Flashes of light came from both sides as the newcomers attempted to Disarm the Death Eaters and the Death Eaters sent jinxes and curses flying their way. In the confusion, Treasa recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt's stolid form and the tall outline of Emmeline Vance. She couldn't be sure, but it looked as if Bill Weasley might be a member of the party as well.

The patients were starting to waken, adding their own cacophony to the scene. She sent Silencing Charms around the room, hoping they would land on the appropriate targets. Most of the patients were bed-ridden, a blessing she'd never really considered before this moment.

Frank Longbottom had jumped out of bed and was brandishing the quill Treasa had dropped as if it were a wand. One of the Death Eaters noticed and turned, wand at the ready.

"No!" Treasa screamed, flinging a non-verbal _Stupefy _at him.

The man ducked, catching the slightest edge of it. He turned, off-balance, and pointed at her. "Over there - the Healer!"

All the combatants' attention zeroed in on her. Treasa threw a Shield Charm up as several jets of light streaked toward her. They rebounded, smashing a few water pitchers and drenching several patients. A figure from the knot of Order members dashed toward her, flinging a hex or two back at the Death Eaters as he came. Treasa's eyes were on Macnair, the closest Death Eater. He was squinting in the semi-darkness even as he sent several hexes toward her in quick succession. She dodged them all, doing her best to keep her face hidden. The only thing that could make this moment worse would be having one of them recognize her.

Bill Weasley dove into a crouched position, yanking her down with him. "Hello, Miss Shannon," he said, flashing a broad grin before turning to cast another _Protego_.

Treasa took aim at Nott, only to have Bill push her hand down.

"You really ought to stay back."

"Why?"

"Because –" Bill gritted out between spells. "It's much – more – important that you – stay hidden so they don't realize who – you – are."

He risked a glance back at her. "Dumbledore said Bilbius died yesterday, so this raid is pointless – unless they see _you_."

Bill turned back around just in time to catch the edge of a Stunning spell to the side of his head. He slumped down, his wand dropping from a limp hand. Treasa cast a quick Shield Charm as another spell sped toward them. Kingsley Shacklebolt cut in front of them, deflecting the curse. His distraction gave Treasa time to give a cursory examination of Bill's head. No bleeding, not even a lump that she could see. He seemed to be coming around already.

Kingsley dove to the side to avoid a jinx, and three jets of light flew toward them. Treasa attempted another _Protego_, but her wand wasn't quick enough.

The impact of the Stunners was the last thing she felt as the ward grew dim.

Sunlight was hitting her face, the rays strong enough to glow red behind her closed eyelids. Treasa forced them open, wincing as the full strength of the light hit her eyes.

A dark figure immediately stepped in front of her, blocking out the light.

"Feeling better?"

Emmeline. The panic coursing through her limbs slowed. She blinked, taking in her surroundings. She was at home, lying on the sofa in her den. A throw pillow was shoved under her head, forcing her neck into an uncomfortably upright position.

Emmeline drew the shades and came to help her sit up, plumping the pillow to support her back. "Well then, you gave us quite a scare."

"What happened?" The first thing on her mind was Bill. "Is anyone hurt?"

"Aside from you? Well, Bill has a monstrous headache, he says, but he went in to work this morning just the same. Everyone else is fine. We chased those scoundrels out of there and had the place back in order in less than 10 minutes." Emmeline gave what Treasa assumed to be the dignified version of a giggle. "Mad-Eye was quite impressed with our performance."

Treasa pushed at the blanket covering her legs. "Well done, then," she said thickly, trying to sort through her memories of the previous night.

"Not so fast, if you please," Emmeline commanded. She drew the blanket back up. "You're to stay put today – Dumbledore's orders. Molly will be along in an hour or so to make you some dinner."

"Stay put?" Treasa repeated, mind finally settling into its normal rhythm. "Did someone recognize –"

"Not that we could tell, but it was dicey there getting you out so I could Disapparate you. No one knew St. Mungo's had Anti-Apparition charms."

"Protection for our patients."

"Ah, well, Dumbledore says it would be best for you to stay out of harm's way for a few days. The Death Eaters will be more worried about losing their source of information than anything else, I'd say."

Treasa had been performing a self-examination. She looked up at her guard, battling annoyance. "I don't feel any broken bones. Why must I 'stay put' on the couch? Surely you don't think a Death Eater is hiding in my bedroom."

"No, but three Stunners is quite a blow, dearie. When Madam Pomfrey heard about it, she very nearly came to watch over you herself. She gave strict orders for you not to exert yourself for a few days. Said you were young and strong enough to withstand them, but you might be a bit weak."

"I don't feel weak," Treasa snapped. She sat forward, intent on getting up. Her head swam. She leaned back carefully, avoiding Emmeline's knowing gaze.

Emmeline settled on a wingback chair across from her, watching with all the protectiveness of a very high-society mother hen. Treasa squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a deep breath. Her left side was a bit sore, as if she'd run into a doorframe. _To be expected_, she reminded herself.

"How did you know the Death Eaters were coming?" She asked, eyes still closed as she pressed at the sore spot.

"Well, Dumbledore said he'd 'been told' about the plan weeks ago, so we've all been waiting for it. I assume he got the information from Snape." Emmeline tilted her head thoughtfully. "I must confess, I don't like the man much, but his information has certainly been invaluable."

Treasa winced. Of course it had been Severus. One more rescue she could lay at his door.

"What time is it?" She asked, glancing about for her clock. Her eyes still weren't focusing properly. "I should be getting ready for work."

"Out of the question, Treasa. Dumbledore sent a note to your superiors. You're not to leave this flat until we know you're safe."


	18. Chapter 17: Finite Incantatem

"You left her where?" Severus snarled, pacing the length of the rug in Dumbledore's office.

"She's quite safe at home, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly. "An Order member has been with her at all times since the attack, and her superiors at work have been warned that she has powerful enemies."

Severus turned on his heel to face the headmaster. "Brilliant! Now all it will take is a half-hearted _Legilimens_ for her exact whereabouts to be discovered. Information like that leaves a deep, lasting memory, Albus, the sort that is easily recalled. You know that as well as I."

"Quite true." Dumbledore was using the same "I'm taking you seriously" tone he employed with a hysterical student. Severus bristled at the realization, even as Dumbledore continued. "Which is why I took the care to Confund them. As far as St. Mungo's is concerned, Treasa Shannon – which they believe is a pseudonym for Gertrude Gilderton - left a position in the United States where she was in danger of exposing a whole community of wizards, who were most unhappy with her for risking them. It should hold against all but a very talented Legilimens. So unless you think Voldemort himself is going to come looking for her, she is safe."

"Don't patronize me, Albus."

He half-regretted the growl in his voice as Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise. Even so, he was entitled to a measure of ire at the faulty handling of a mission of this importance.

"I had no intention of patronizing you, Severus. You asked for the details of the mission to keep Miss Shannon from the Death Eaters. I've provided those to the best of my knowledge." Dumbledore spread his hands. "Unless you provide _me_ with more detail, I fail to see the problem."

"I –" Severus clenched his hands to keep from throwing them up in frustration or surrender. "Do you have any idea how compromising it would be for me if they discovered Miss Shannon was working for the Order? She was supposed to be dead by the Dark Lord's hand. I can explain away not killing the rest of you, but this…"

"Voldemort would be suspicious if he thought you knew she was a part of the Order."

It was one of Albus's infuriating statement-questions that demanded an answer with all the courtesy in the world. Severus had long speculated that it was this particular talent that had kept him from finding a witch to settle down with. No woman would tolerate that sort of manipulation. He paced over to the chair across from Albus and let loose a hissing sigh.

"Suspicious is hardly the word."

"Surely the excuse of keeping your cover would suffice," Albus offered. "He must know that you'd be suspected if anything happened to an Order member."

"There are any number of ways to arrange someone's death without implicating myself."

Dumbledore's brow wrinkled for the merest moment. "Something you've considered before?"

"Often. And well he knows it."

"He knows enough of _me_ to understand the delicacy of your situation."

"Perhaps, but I doubt he'd think that through before exacting his punishment."

They were talking at each other. Severus had settled on the ornate corner of the portrait frame to the left of Dumbledore's head as his focal point; Albus seemed to have fixated on the arm of the chair Severus was occupying. It was always like this when it came to the nastier parts of his role as double spy. Though he claimed to understand and appreciate the risks the position entailed, Albus could never grow accustomed to the bloodshed it required. A certain perverse corner of Severus rather gloried in that knowledge. Let the noble Gryffindor keep his hands clean. He was at liberty to do so as long as Severus was around to be sure the dirty work was completed. It was Dumbledore's job to be the hero in the end. It fell to Severus to weigh and decide who must live and die to make Dumbledore's job possible.

Albus met his eyes again. "Could you claim not to have recognized her? I can help you create memories of her being called Gertrude Gilderton – surely you cannot be held accountable for not knowing who she is."

His face was relaxing into a smile. Severus shook his head, anticipating the next question before it left Dumbledore's mouth.

"Why not, Severus? Voldemort values your position too highly to throw it away on such a minor point. You could easily have been deceived."

Severus ground his teeth together for a long moment, welcoming the shooting pain through his jaw as the pressure increased. "It's not such a minor point. I knew her too well to be mistaken."

"Too well? A woman you hardly saw outside of Hogwarts? Even Voldemort cannot expect you to remember her clearly."

"But he can," Severus said quietly, steeling himself for the reaction to come. "She's my wife."

* * *

Dumbledore's reaction would have been satisfying if Severus had been inclined to be dramatic. The man seemed to have gone completely white, his skin simply fading into his beard and hair. Severus didn't offer any further explanation. If Albus wanted to know, he could very well ask.

"Well, this changes things," Albus said, swallowing with what appeared to be titanic effort. "And just when were you planning on letting the rest of us in on this bit of news?"

Severus shrugged. "I'd hoped it wouldn't be necessary."

"Wouldn't be necessary?" Dumbledore repeated. He looked down at the papers on his desk, twirling his quill. Severus could see him patching together memories in his head. "You were married while you were still in Voldemort's service."

Severus nodded.

"Before –"

"Yes, before."

"What possessed you to –"

"The Dark Lord insisted I have a witch 'worthy of a Death Eater.' It seemed she fit his criteria."

"And you were willing to bind yourself to another?"

He jerked his eyes to Dumbledore's, sinking his tooth into his lip in an effort to keep back the retort hovering within. It didn't work. "Don't be a sentimental fool, Albus. I did what the Dark Lord commanded – what I had to do."

Dumbledore's expression didn't change. He merely held Severus' gaze and waited. Simply maddening, that skill Albus had for out-waiting a person. Most unwillingly, he cast his mind back. The memories were as vivid as he feared.

"The Dark Lord made it plain that failure to accept his chosen match for me would mean more than some slight disfavor." He allowed himself a brittle smile. "After all, I was granted admittance to the inner circle strictly on my merit as a potioneer, and he couldn't be seen making exceptions for a half-blood."

Dumbledore gave a nod, his eyes softening to something akin to pity. The knot of tension in Severus' stomach gave a sudden clench, propelling him out of the chair. He wouldn't pander to Albus' tendency to make him some sort of tragic figure. He stalked to the mantel, focusing on the slightly disarranged trinkets. The miniature bust of Godric Gryffindor was in danger of tumbling into the fire.

"Treasa Shannon no more wanted the match than I did, so you needn't imagine the marriage was anything but a farce." The bust was pushed back in line with the golden vial of dragon's blood, engraved with thanks from the International Society for Magical Research. Severus skimmed the inscription, weighing exactly how much information Albus would require. "We both had our reasons for keeping up appearances, so we were civil to one another in company and barely spoke when we were alone. That," he turned back to Dumbledore with a sneer, "may explain to you why there was no tearful reunion when we saw each other in July."

"Yes, but -"

Letting Albus ask questions would not help matters. "When I reported that prophecy, the Dark Lord didn't immediately think of the Potters as the most likely candidates. All the more aggressive members of the Order were carefully watched for several months – even the bachelors like Black and Moody. It wasn't until that last confrontation between the Dark Lord and Potter in June that they were even highly considered. As soon as word reached the Death Eaters that Lily had given birth to a son, I came to find you."

Another nod, this one much more solemn. They both remembered that meeting all too well. Severus returned his attention to the mantel, shifting the golden vial an inch or so away from the bust.

"After you instructed them to go into hiding, I attempted to find another Order member who might suffice to distract the Dark Lord. The Longbottoms were the obvious choice – they were just as vital a threat to us, and they also had a child. And once the Potters were no longer active, they seemed even more perfect as a substitute. I did my best to convince the others, and so it was that Treasa managed to overhear me discussing it with Lucius and Nott one day in the summer."

A slight noise from the desk told him Dumbledore had reacted to that piece of information. He didn't bother turning around to see it. Omniscient as the man was, Albus undoubtedly caught the significance.

"Unbeknownst to me, she began plotting how she might warn the Longbottoms. Since she had no ties to us, her communication was strictly monitored, and her travel was supposed to be as well."

"Supposed to be?"

Albus had capitalized on his momentary hesitation. Severus gritted his teeth. "Yes. Considering our situation, I'd given her a password on the Floo Network so she could come and go from the house without requesting permission from me. She mostly used it for trips to Diagon Alley for books and the like, and I had no reason to suppose she'd use it for anything else."

"Not even to escape?"

"She'd been coerced into the marriage because the Dark Lord threatened her family. Leaving would be a death sentence to them. I knew she wouldn't escape."

"But she did try to warn Frank and Alice."

"Yes. I was never told the whole story, but she found a way to see Alice Longbottom. Unfortunately, the man set to watch the Longbottoms chose to follow Alice that day, and so witnessed Treasa's betrayal. She was in the Malfoy dungeon under sentence of death before I ever heard of her involvement in the affair."

"And you intervened on her behalf?"

Severus snorted. "Do you truly think me as reckless as that? She'd been caught defying the Dark Lord. Any outcry from me would be seen as agreement. I excused myself from the meeting to discuss her fate, which was as much as anyone expected. Since she'd made such a point to warn the Longbottoms, however, the Dark Lord chose to include them in his plans against the Potters. After he finished in Godric's Hollow, he planned to go straight to London and finish off the Longbottoms, eliminating both his major threats in one night. Treasa was to be kept alive until the job was done, then executed the next day – so she would know that her interference had caused the death of her friends."

"But things didn't go according to plan that night."

"No." Severus let his shoulders relax slightly. The worst of his tale was over. "I confess, I didn't think of Treasa until much later. Perhaps two weeks passed before it occurred to me that she might have been spared. When I questioned the house elf -"

"Dobby," Dumbledore supplied.

" - he said there were no prisoners in the dungeons and hadn't been since the night of the Dark Lord's disappearance. I assumed Bellatrix must have completed the job when we realized the Dark Lord wasn't coming back. She certainly never came back to the manor."

"So, if Voldemort discovers she's working with the Order -" Dumbledore left the sentence for him to finish.

"My life will last as long as it takes him to draw his wand, yes."

Severus paced back to the chair and sat down, squaring off with the headmaster again. "So, now you know my last secret, Albus. What are we going to do about her?"

"Well, you're quite right, she'll need more protection." Albus leaned forward, tapping his quill against his left hand. "We can alter St. Mungo's records, and I'll take another pass at Confunding the Head Healers. The real question is where she should stay."

The idea leapt into his mind immediately, but Severus refused to give voice to it. "Perhaps we could set more powerful protection charms around her home."

"Perhaps, though I don't think Miss Sha – Treasa will take kindly to the forced inactivity. She'll want to be useful."

He could see the idea beginning to form in Albus' mind, but did his best to forestall it. "Just keep her busy with potions work. She's the Order's healer, after all."

"But her potions laboratory is set up at Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore countered, eyeing Severus speculatively. "I know it's not the most hospitable of places, but -"

Severus sighed. He knew better than to think his opinion would have any real bearing on the decision. "By all means, lock her up with Black."

Albus tilted his head slightly. "You don't object?"

"Object to keeping my skin on my bones?" Severus forced the sarcasm. "When will you learn that I'm not a Gryffindor, nor do I suffer from any of your grandiose delusions of self-sacrifice and nobility? If putting her in Grimmauld Place with those two -" he caught Dumbledore's frown and withheld the epithet on his lips. "If her living with a convict and a werewolf means I can stop sleeping with wand in hand, then I say get her there before dawn."

"I'm glad to hear that, Severus. I'll need your help tonight."

_Of course you will. _Severus merely raised his eyebrows and waited for instructions.

"I'll contact Sirius and tell him to expect us. You might see if Minerva is available to help, too. The more wands the better."

Severus gave one nod and stalked toward the door. The sooner this was accomplished, the sooner he could get that full night's sleep that had been evading him since the beginning of term.

"Ah, poor Sirius," Dumbledore chuckled.

Something in the tone gave Severus pause. He turned on his heel. "Why?"

"Surely you've noticed the poor fellow's attraction to Treasa. It's going to be rather hard for him to swallow the fact that she's already spoken for – by you. And on the night she moves in with him..." Dumbledore was shaking his head rather sadly, a melancholy smile tightening his mouth.

"He's not to know." The words were out before Severus really considered them. "None of them are to know."

"Come, Severus, you can't expect it to remain a secret now. Surely her safety is worth more than your pride."

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't have come here tonight," Severus said coolly. "I simply don't see the value in the whole Order knowing the story and being able to let it slip at inopportune moments."

"They'll have to know the extent of the danger -"

"And you are nearly as accomplished as I at telling half-stories." The words brought a thin, ironic smile, even if Albus didn't seem as amused by the comparison. "Tell whatever tale you and she can spin out, but it needn't include anything about us."

"You're being unreasonable -"

"She told me in July that she didn't want our relationship known. Your Gryffindor chivalry will force you to take her choice into account even if you ignore mine."

There was a pause as the two men sized one another up, weighing the other's claim on the decision. Rather to Severus' surprise, Albus nodded.

"Very well, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Minerva's door was closed, and the voice coming through was that of a whining, homesick first year. Severus didn't bother knocking. Minerva would never leave one of her lion cubs to whimper through the night. Just as well, for Severus was in no way looking forward to the confrontation he was surely in store for, and the fewer eyes the better. If there were to be witnesses, he preferred the relative anonymity of an Order member such as Emmeline Vance or Kingsley Shacklebolt – not someone who was a colleague.

"This seems as if it should be a silly question, Headmaster, but are you attempting to sneak out of the castle?"

Severus stopped mid stride, catching himself just before he entered the entrance hall. Just hearing that breathy, girlish voice was enough to make him consider heading back to Minerva's office. Let Albus deal with her for once.

"Professor Umbridge," Albus' voice was cheerful and polite, but Severus could hear the strain. "You're quite right, it would be a silly question. I am merely waiting for Professor Snape to join me. We're off to pick fluxweed tonight."

"Indeed," Umbridge said, her voice as syrupy and vapid as ever. "Forgive me, but I thought fluxweed was picked only at the full moon. Isn't it but a quarter-full tonight?"

Severus stepped out into the room. "Actually, when picked on the first quarter of the moon, fluxweed is an essential additive to Shrinking Potions and Aging Draughts."

Umbridge's combative stance visibly relaxed, but her eyes remained narrowed. Severus cut her off before she had a chance to speak again.

"The headmaster informed me today that our gamekeeper planted some fluxweed in his garden over the summer, so I can incorporate its more varied uses into my NEWT curriculum with perfect assurance they were picked at the appropriate time. He was just on his way to show me their location."

"I'm glad to see at least one member of the Hogwarts staff is committed to the higher standards of learning," Umbridge purred, looking daggers at Dumbledore. "Still, it does seem rather foolish to send two grown men to go pick a few weeds, don't you think? It almost seems as if you wanted to get away from the castle without anyone knowing it."

Albus shot Severus a questioning look, eyebrows raised. Severus felt as if the color was draining from his face, though he knew his visible reaction had been stifled. The hesitation was brief, but the half-nod cost him dearly.

"Quite right, Professor Umbridge, and we wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression," Albus' voice had lost none of its poise. "Severus, the fluxweed is in the northernmost corner of Hagrid's garden. I'll let you see it it while I complete some correspondence to go with the morning owls." And with a quick farewell wave, Dumbledore strode back toward his office.

Severus swallowed even though his mouth had gone dry. Umbridge was smiling at him.

"Professor Snape, I applaud your zeal. Don't let me keep you from your task."

He wasn't certain what he said back, only that it was polite and just ingratiating enough that Umbridge was satisfied. The door latch groaned ominously as he fought it open and stepped into the cool night air. He'd have to face Treasa alone.


	19. Chapter 18

Happy Hallows premiere, everyone!

* * *

Treasa Levitated the dishes away from Molly's reaching hand.

"Now listen, Molly Weasley. If you're going to come and cook me dinner every evening, the least you can do is stop doing all the clearing away, too."

Molly pursed her lips as the plates floated neatly into the sink. "Dumbledore himself told me to be sure you weren't over-exerting yourself, Treasa -"

"It's been three whole days. I'm perfectly fine – barely any soreness left."

Treasa paused and did a reverse wand flick and spiral to separate the dishes and start the water filling the sink. It took extra concentration to aim the spell from this distance. Household spells weren't the strongest in her arsenal, but her pride was smarting enough from the events of the last few days. She didn't want Molly thinking she couldn't even wash dishes.

"Have you decided what you're going to do now?"

Treasa turned her head at Molly's question. "Do?"

"Now that you're not working. Surely you realize that Dumbledore won't let you go back to St. Mungo's."

"Why ever not? The Death Eaters have no reason to go back to St. Mungo's, and we don't know that any of them saw me."

Molly shook her head in motherly amusement, "Honestly, Treasa. Dumbledore's not going to – oh, Merlin, the sink!"

Treasa heard the water hit the floor before her eyes comprehended that the sink had overflowed. She raised her wand, but Molly had already flicked hers out and was performing a rather dizzying array of spirals and figure eights. Treasa tried to follow the movements with her eyes, but her attention was drawn to the results. The faucet had stopped immediately, and the glass floating dangerously on the top of the water froze in place an inch or so from the edge of the sink. With a quiet _whoosh_, the water level in the sink lowered, and the wet spot on the floor dried. A blast of hot air completed the clean up to the kitchen floor, and with a final flick, Molly put soap in the water and swirled it to get suds, re-freezing the water when the froth had accumulated.

Treasa leaned back with a low whistle. "I see you've practiced that a time or two."

"I learned early on that if I didn't want to bankrupt us with buying new plates every other day, I had to either practice my _Reparo_, or keep the accidents from happening. It got to be quite the challenge when the twins came along – so many young ones, and Bill barely old enough to be helping with his younger brothers. It's all in the intent, you know. I've cast those spells so many times that I don't even think the words any longer, but my wand knows what it's about."

"So it's the same principle as they teach the Auror candidates – don't focus on a specific spell, but on the action you intend to complete," Treasa mused, letting her eyes wander back to the immobilized water. "I've read about it, but I never considered applying the principle to housework."

"Likely you've never had to."

Treasa gave a rueful shrug and stood, reaching for the soup tureen still on the table. A shadow fell over it. She let the tureen drop and grabbed her wand in one motion, vaguely aware of Molly's startled gasp. The figure in the door took a step further in.

"Severus Snape!" It was Molly's breathless, angry voice that brought the intruder's features into sharper focus.

"Be thankful it was me and not some less desirable guest," he said evenly.

Molly focused her attention on mopping up the soup that had spilled, siphoning it from the table surface with her wand.

"Couldn't bother knocking?" Treasa asked, the panic-borne harshness still edging her voice.

"I did. Apparently, you were too busy with your chatter to notice. Foolish of you to be so lax."

"There are protections on this place -"

"Which took me no more than two minutes to break through."

Molly slammed the tureen on the counter by the sink, throwing her own aggravated voice into the fray. "You knew about them. Anyone else would have tripped the Disquietus charm."

"It's the first charm I check for when entering a place I know to be guarded," Severus retaliated. "If _I_ think of it, those whose business it is to hunt down victims will think of it as well."

An uneasy silence dropped upon them. Treasa picked up their goblets and deposited them in the soap suds with enough force to splash herself and Molly in bubbles. They exchanged irritated glances before Molly brushed the suds off her skirt and turned back to Severus with a stiffly polite smile.

"Have you eaten? We have leftovers."

Severus didn't bother answering. He turned and paced back to the doorway. "Any disturbances here tonight?"

"Aside from you?" Treasa snapped, ignoring Molly's calming pressure on her arm.

Severus turned on his heel and continued his measured strides to the window looking out over the alley, giving no indication he'd heard her. Treasa followed his lead, choosing to ignore him rather than pursue any inquiry about why he'd shown up. She focused on the goblets, scrupulously cleaning every crevice of the scrollwork along the rim.

Molly, however, felt no such compulsion to silence. After sealing the tureen with a _Frigus _to stop it spoiling, she turned to Severus with brisk curiosity.

"Did Dumbledore send you to guard Treasa tonight?"

Treasa had a fleeting image of Severus' reaction if that was indeed the case – and another of what her reaction would be the next time she saw Dumbledore .

"Dumbledore feels this location is no longer safe," Severus said, putting enough space for a hippogriff between his words. "He sent me to escort you to headquarters – tonight."

"Why ever would he think that?" Treasa snapped, turning around to gauge Severus' reaction to her question.

He knit his eyebrows at her and cut his eyes once to Molly, putting Treasa fairly in the picture. There were a limited number of options that he wouldn't discuss around a third party.

"Dumbledore doesn't tell me every detail of his decision-making," Severus growled. "He's already alerted Black and Lupin to expect us within an hour. I suggest you begin packing now."

"I can finish in here, Treasa," Molly offered, pointing her wand at the sink.

"Molly -" Treasa had no intention of leaving Molly with the dishes, any more than she intended to simply jump at Severus' command.

"If Dumbledore wants you at headquarters, I suggest you get there without delay," Molly said sagely. "He generally knows what he's about."

Severus followed her from the kitchen into the bedroom. Treasa managed to hold in her irritation until they both stepped inside, and Severus had shut the door.

"If I find out that Dumbledore didn't order me to leave this flat, I'll hex you till even You-Know-Who wouldn't know you from a bowtruckle."

"Do you think I would have come tonight if he hadn't decided to send me?"

"Who – Dumbledore or Voldemort?" Treasa snapped.

Severus stepped in front of the door and leaned stiffly against it. "Dumbledore knows."

"Knows?" Treasa repeated, uncomprehending. Severus merely looked at her. The realization broke with the sickening feeling of a dementor's approach. "You told him about -" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "About _us_?"

"Yes."

"You troll!" Treasa's wand was practically twitching in her hand as the wave of anger swept over her. It had been many years since she'd lost control, but several seconds passed before she was certain she wouldn't fire off a hex without meaning to. "The only thing I asked of you -"

"It was necessary."Severus still hadn't moved from his position at the door. "If you were to be seen by a Death Eater, it would be a death sentence for both of us."

"And how am I supposed to explain to -"

"To whom?" Severus's voice was faintly mocking, but he didn't stir. "Your precious convict, Black? Or perhaps Molly Weasley? Will that revelation irrevocably damage your friendship?"

Treasa took two steps back toward the door, hand clenching on her wand to keep herself from raising it."It's a matter of trust, Severus, something I realize you have little experience with. They trust me, and I've lied to them, and now the whole Order will know."

"So it's not the lie that worries you, but the fact you'll be found out," Severus observed blandly. "How very Slytherin of you. All these years of thinking we had nothing in common..."

Her wand did come up in response to that, but he lazily raised a hand in protest. "There's no need for that. Dumbledore promised he wouldn't tell a soul. I assume you _trust_ him."

There were several things she considered calling him, but she contented herself with jabbing her wand at the trunk in the corner, Levitating it onto her bed.

"And I suppose," she said, steadying her voice against the ragged edges of rage. "I suppose this decision to hide me away in Grimmauld Place was your idea?"

"I would have thought you'd appreciate more alone time with Black," Severus shot back, startling her with the raw anger in his voice. "If you must know, Dumbledore thought it would be better to sequester you with your potions laboratory. We're certain some of the Order will be needing it before long."

"Inside information?" Treasa asked, unsure if she meant the question as a jab or not.

"Mere probability."

Severus turned on his heel and opened the bedroom door, ending the spat uncharacteristically early. "I'll be leaving in ten minutes. Be ready to leave, or I'll finish your packing for you."

* * *

Grimmauld Place seemed much less inviting than it once had when viewed from the eyes of an exile, Treas mused as they stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the house to finish expanding between Numbers 11 and 13. Rather than exuding a sense of clandestine charm, it seemed intent on displaying every crack and cobweb.

Severus was standing beside her, unnaturally still as usual. His face was settled in a nondescript mold that gave just enough mobility to his features to avoid him being mistaken for a statue. She recognized that face from her time in Snape Manor. He was Occluding her from his mind. A feeling somewhere between homesickness and regret slid into her stomach, as surprising as it was unfamiliar.

"Did Dumbledore give any other instructions?" She ventured as they reached the stoop.

"Only that you are not to leave headquarters."

"And he promised not to -"

"Yes." He was still staring at the knocker, his face free of any expression. "You might want to do something to keep Black at bay." He turned to her, lip curling. "Or perhaps not."

"Don't be a git," she snapped, banishing the wistful feeling and reaching for the knocker.

The door opened before she had a chance to let it fall.

"Treasa!" Sirius beamed, throwing the door open with a thud. His eyes traveled momentarily to Severus, but returned to Treasa with purposeful cheer. "About time Dumbledore put us prisoners together, eh?"

"Blood-traitors, and werewolves," screeched the portrait in the hallway.

"Let us in, Black," Severus snapped, shoving him aside to enter the house. "Unless you want all the muggles in London descending on us."

Sirius gave Treasa a wink and charged at the portrait, "Shut up, Mother, we have guests!"

Lupin sprinted down the hallway to help him wrestle with the curtains. "Treasa," he panted, "Pleasure to see you."

She stifled a chuckle as the curtains did their best to twist around around the two wizards. Lupin wrenched his right arm out of their grasp and stumbled, releasing a muffling, grunting cry of pain.

"Moony?" Sirius ground out, fighting off his own curtain.

Lupin opened his mouth to answer, but his face blanched and his entire right side convulsed. He dropped to the floor, insensible.


	20. Chapter 19:Waddiwassi

Treasa darted forward, reaching Lupin almost as soon as he hit the floor. Severus stiffened against the wall, giving the wand at his side the merest flick. _Homenum Revelio._ He felt the magic spread out around him, searching through the house for other humans.

His wand vibrated four times. Four occupants, all of them in this hallway. No possibility of a surprise attack.

"Let the werewolf lay," screamed the portrait of Mrs. Black, accompanying her triumphant tones with a peal of demented laughter. "One less blight on this noble house."

"SHUT UP!" Sirius roared, rounding on his mother's portrait with a Stunner that scorched the air by Severus' face.

The spell seemed to work for the moment. Mrs. Black looked far too shocked to immediately continue her tirade. Sirius took up the curtain Lupin had been wrestling with, jerking it almost closed in one, manic heave. He shuddered with the effort. A near-inhuman growl curled from his throat.

Severus took hold of the other side, stretching it the last few inches to meet its straining partner. Black's eyes unscrewed and darted to his face, disbelieving. Severus merely released the curtain and turned away, still scanning the hallway for anything that could have caused Lupin's collapse. There were any number of murderous objects in this house.

Treasa was casting basic diagnostic charms, her wand shifting from heart to skull to abdomen with the smooth flow of habitual work. Black had thrown himself down on Lupin's other side, eyes glued to the sweeping motions of the verawood wand.

"Well, Treasa?" Sirius asked as the silence stretched into eeriness.

"No head injuries, nothing internal," Treasa replied, almost absent-mindedly. "Ah, there!" Her wand paused near the base of Lupin's right ribs, visibly pulsing.

She laid the wand aside and probed the area with her fingers. Severus, rather fascinated despite himself, stepped closer to observe her work. He had once scoffed at the idea of being a Healer himself, but Slughorn had been right that the intricacies of the work were intriguing in their own right. Treasa's movements were steady and sure, but infinitely careful. She peeled aside Lupin's black outer robe, grimacing at the spreading dark stain on the faded gray shirt he wore underneath. It clung slightly to the wound underneath as she attempted to pull it away.

It was a rounded slash in his side. Severus realized with a detached thrill of recognition that the edges bore the unmistakable impressions of _teeth, _though from a jaw too elongated and canines far too large to be human. Treasa was frowning, probing at the seeping edges with her left hand.

There was a sudden shift in Lupin's breathing as Treasa pressed on the wound – a sharper inhale, a groan on the exhale. Treasa drew back, eyes on Lupin's face, left fingers instinctively cupped to avoid dripping the blood that clung to them. When he gave no other signs of reviving, she picked up her wand, casting a rapid-fire set of charms that left the wizard utterly limp, his breathing now steady and relaxed, the blood from the wound cleared away, and the edges beginning to close.

"He's..." Black apparently had no intention of continuing the sentence. He seemed incapable of drawing his eyes from the ugly gash.

"He'll be fine," Treasa said briskly. "Bite wounds such as that are a Knut a dozen around St. Mungo's. I've healed more than -"

But she broke off, frowning. Severus could see why even from his vantage point several feet away. The edges that had begun to draw together were retracting once more, blood seeping in a manner that gave him a strong feeling of deja vu.

"What in Merlin's bloody pants?"

Severus had the distinct impression Treasa had not intended to verbalize the muttered query. She was leaning over Lupin again, waving her wand in the same pattern she had used before. Again, the wound began to heal over, only to pull back in an eerily familiar pattern.

"Treasa," Sirius began, voice quivering rather less noticeably than his body. "It's not working."

This time, Treasa's exclamation was stronger. She changed tactics, giving a simple double spiral that had no effect whatsoever. Two more silent spells, then she snapped in exasperation, "Abracabrius vigorato!"

Black looked as if he might go to pieces where he sat. Severus could only hope that such an action would prove equally difficult for Treasa to heal. He'd heard of that last spell. It was rarely used, a sort of last recourse when targeted charms had no effect. The werewolf was rather stubbornly still bleeding. _Werewolf_...

"Where are your potions ingredients?"

Both Treasa and Black started, heads whipping around to where he stood. Treasa's eyebrows were furrowed.

"Listen, Snape, this is no time -"

Treasa cut across Black's threat, "You have an idea, Severus?"

He controlled the startled jump of his muscles by pure instinct, keeping his eyes on Treasa though he longed to see if Black had noticed her use of his first name. "Lycanthropy."

Her eyes widened in comprehension. "Basement."

He kindled the fire under the first cauldron on the table as soon as he stepped in the door. "Accio moonstone, aconite and salamander blood."

A large vial and two cloth bags soared off the shelves and landed neatly next to the cauldron. He poured half the salamander blood into the cauldron and ripped two sprigs of aconite into quarters, not bothering with the knife to chop it finer. For this particular plan, finesse was less important than speed.

With the two ingredients sluggishly coming to a boil, he searched the shelves for fluxweed. There was no time to test his theory that the wound was reacting badly to Lupin's monthly transformation, and the paste he was creating was pure invention of the moment. If Treasa had thought to purchase new-moon fluxweed as well as full-moon, he might be able to use a pinch in the paste to counter the changing properties of the wound. He had not risked Summoning the leaves for fear his spell would not make the distinction he needed. It had happened before.

There were four tins marked "Fluxweed," each with a different drawing of the moon on the label. He grabbed the one with a blacked-out circle, thanking Treasa mentally for remaining as meticulous as he recalled.

"If this works, you may finally have won that Order of Merlin for yourself, Severus," he muttered in half-sarcasm, grabbing a pestle to prepare the fluxweed.

He let the mixture simmer for exactly 60 seconds without stirring before adding the moonstone powder. It was already starting to congeal,taking on the consistency of pudding. If his theory was correct, the moonstone would work with the fluxweed to counteract the lycanthropic symptoms and activate the salamander blood's restorative properties when the healing began, speeding the process.

The final result was a gloppy, irridescent blue. He eyed it skeptically as he poured it into a bowl. Far from his best work, and if he'd gotten it wrong in any way, he would have the full fury of the Order to deal with. He doubted even Dumbledore's protection would be enough to spare him if Black thought Lupin had come to more harm because of him.

Treasa was in much the same position he'd left her, muttering spells in a rapid-fire manner, though none of them seemed to have much effect. He passed the bowl to her and stepped back, wand raised in preparation for whatever reaction was forthcoming.

She, in stark contrast to the panicked Black at her side, had returned to her calm, brisk Healer demeanor. She scooped the paste out with her left hand and smeared it on the wound.

"Can't believe I didn't see it sooner," she said, addressing her comment to Severus, though her eyes remained fixed on her work. "Same principle as Animagus attempts and faulty transfigurations."

Black looked predictably as if he hadn't quite managed to follow her reasoning. Severus indulged in a moment of pleasure at his confusion. "The paste should halt the transfomations long enough for your spells to take effect."

She pointed the wand at the wound and did two figure eights while murmuring, "Vulnaverto vigorato."

The bite marks eased together, pulled slightly back, then completed the healing by absorbing the last of the paste and sealing themselves seamlessly. Lupin stirred, attempting to push himself up off the floor.

"Rest for a moment," Treasa admonished, hand on his shoulder. "You'll need your strength for the tongue-lashing you're in for. Been keeping that bite a secret have you?"

Lupin's hand went to his side. "How did you manage that? I've been trying for -"

"Nigh onto two weeks, by my calculations," Treasa supplied.

He had the sense to look abashed. "It – it seemed to be healing," he offered, trying again to edge into a sitting position. "Merlin's beard, I'd forgotten what it was like to move without pain. You're a miracle worker, Treasa Shannon."

Severus Summoned the bowl from the oh-so-touching scene, prodding the blue residue with his left index finger. It was a rather ingenious concoction, a shame there would never be a market for it. Werewolves weren't frequent patrons to Diagon Alley, preferring the ministrations of their own kind. Still, perhaps the Institute of Magical Research might take an interest in it as something of a derivative of Wolfsbane.

Black was helping Lupin to his feet, relief making his already-loud voice positively raucous. "Moony, you bloody fool, the next time you pull a trick like that, I give Treasa permission not to heal you."

"It wasn't just my spell," Treasa protested, waving away Lupin's thanks. "Really, it was Severus who came up with the idea that your lycanthropy was the key." She turned toward him, something rather like respect in her eyes. "And it was his potion that gave the spell a chance to work."

"Well, then, Severus," Lupin broke away from Black and crossed the hall with hand outstretched. "Your talent with potions saves me yet again. My thanks."

Severus tightened his grip on the bowl, feeling rather than seeing Black's stifled protest. He wanted Lupin's thanks less than Black wanted him to give it. The honest smile on Lupin's face faltered as his proffered hand was not met. Behind him, Treasa's brow creased.

"May I suggest that the next time you have a disagreement with one of your kind, you take care _not _to let it happen during your transformation?" Severus said finally, keeping his voice and face expressionless. He made rather a production of conjuring a large phial for the paste and using his wand to transfer it from the bowl. "I presume that was what caused the fluctuations of the wound, correct?"

Lupin let his hand drop, covering the frustration in his tone fairly well. "Yes, well, I hadn't planned on Greyback's clan finding the group I was staying with last month. I'll do my best to keep it from happening again."

Severus sealed the phial with a half dram or so left in the bowl. He held it out to Lupin stiffly. "In case you don't manage it."

The werewolf accepted it with more graciousness than it was offered, Severus had to admit. Lupin took the bowl down the hall and disappeared into one of the doorways. A moment, a breath too long, Severus stood motionless in the corridor. Long enough to notice that Black already had Treasa laughing at some inane comment and was taking advantage of her laughter to edge another half-step nearer. Now their bodies were close enough to one another that Severus doubted a demiguise could have fit between them. He turned toward the door, fully intending to slam it on the way out so the portrait of Black's mother would re-awaken.

"Severus."

It was the second time Treasa had called him by name in the presence of Order members. Severus attributed the odd half-lurch in his midsection to suppressed frustration that she would be so careless. She, after all, was the one who was so intent on pretending they'd never met outside of school. He turned on his heel and almost took a step back. Rather than remaining with Black, she'd covered the length of the hall that separated them, standing only a few inches behind him.

Severus chose to simply look at her. If she wanted to speak, she could.

"Stroke of genius, that was," she said, her brogue coloring her words.

She paused, evidently waiting for him to respond, which he had no intention of doing. For him to do anything other than stare coolly at her would be uncharacteristic enough for even Black to notice.

Treasa's expression slid toward exasperation, then halted. "Just wanted to thank you for helpin' me with the cure. I'd hate to lose a patient so soon after moving into headquarters."

She was frustratingly close to divulging that she which insisted be kept secret. Severus couldn't fathom what she meant by it. It was not her neatest attempt to bait him, and he couldn't be sure that was what she was trying to do. Black's blazing, hate-filled eyes found his over Treasa's head, clearly daring him to do anything he found offensive or rude.

His best recourse was his original plan. The door-muffled screech of Mrs. Black was rather hollowly satisfying as he strode away.


	21. Chapter 20  the whole version!

Updated, as promised! Please note I made a few slight changes to what was already posted - nothing major, just detail stuff.

Oh, and shameless plug here - I've got three other stories on Fanfic, and they're all hurting for reviews. So check out my profile, and read my stuff, please. I welcome constructive feedback!

* * *

"Sirius, won't you sit down? That's not helping them get here any faster."

Treasa stepped back to avoid his sharp turn and the tray of tarts in her hands tilted ominously. Her quick shift to the left kept them from spilling over the side, but her attempt to move forward was thwarted again as Sirius passed, muttering under his breath and apparently unaware of her presence.

"…go down to Hogwarts myself… Bring Remus along – he'd like a chance to get at Umbridge… if Dung let her harm so much as a…"

Sirius was pacing in a tight, elliptical course punctuated by impatient flicks of his head that shook the hair out of his face and reminded Treasa irresistibly of a dog awaiting a treat. It was amusing, but he'd been at it since noon, and her patience was beginning to wear thin.

"_Sirius_," she tried again, darting past him and setting the tarts on the end of the table. "If you don't get out of the way, I'm going to lock you in your room till after the meeting so you won't be able to hear Mundungus's report at all."

That got his attention. He froze mid-stride and rotated on his heel to face her. His woebegone expression banished most of her annoyance at once.

"You know I wouldn't. But –"she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows in her best impression of her mother's scolding stance. "I suggest you find somewhere else to do your pacing."

She moved toward the counter where the freshly washed cups sat waiting, but Sirius waved his wand and sent them floating gracefully toward the table, landing in a neatly stacked pyramid next to the jugs of pumpkin juice and cider she'd already placed there.

"Or I could make myself useful," Sirius said with his quicksilver smile, the dark cloud lifting from his forehead. "I apologize, Treasa. I'm a right fool when it comes to Harry's safety."

"I suppose I'll have to forgive you, then. Being a good godfather trumps being a helpful host." She pushed a cheese tray into his hands and nudged him toward the table. "Won't be long now."

The message from Mundungus had been irritatingly vague. He'd sent an owl stating he had news about Harry and thought everyone should be aware of the developments. Treasa thought it most likely that Mundungus was milking his position as Hogsmeade spy, but the look on Sirius' face as he read the parchment had sealed her lips. He'd waffled between bombastic assurances that Harry could handle himself and pacing and muttering to himself about sneaking out of the house for the last 24 hours. If his concern hadn't been so genuine, she would have banished him to the third floor hours ago.

The fire flamed green as Minerva McGonagall stepped through, followed in quick succession by Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dedalus Diggle. Questions were already spewing out of Sirius' mouth as he stepped forward, blocking the newcomers' path into the room. Treasa brushed the remaining crumbs from her robes and headed toward the front door, stifling a smile as Minerva's stern voice cut across Sirius' questioning.

"The boy's alive and in good health, Sirius. Apart from that, you know as much as I."

A soft knock drew Treasa's attention, and she hurried down the hall to open the door to Bill Weasley, who was accompanied by his parents and Hestia Jones. Mrs. Black was silent as they eased down the hallway toward the kitchen, but as Treasa turned to smile and nod at Molly, a gust of wind through the square caught the door from her grasp so it flew back against the wall with a resounding thud that immediately set the old woman to screeching.

"_Silencio!_"

Treasa shot the spell directly at Mrs. Black's open mouth, and found a wry pleasure when the stream of invectives ceased instantly. Severus, who apparently had been standing on the stoop, shut the door with a silence that was annoyingly complete. She pursed her lips and nodded her thanks. His expression, predictably, did not change.

There was an impatient rap on the door. Treasa opened it, her eyes still on Severus, who had yet to move toward the kitchen. Mundungus shifted through the opening quickly, reaching to help shut the door.

As he did so, Severus brushed past them both, heading for the door next to Mrs. Black that led down to the basement. Treasa whipped her head around just in time to see his robe disappearing through the entry.

"I'll just be getting on in, then," Mundungus said, edging down the hallway.

Treasa nodded, eyes skipping past Mrs. Black's wildly gesticulating portrait toward the door Severus had disappeared through.

"They're waiting for you."

"Dumbledore here yet?"

"What?" Treasa turned back to Mundungus, forcing her attention back to him. The thief seemed nervous, hands fiddling with his pockets, feet shifting in different directions. "Oh, no, Dumbledore's not here. Sirius is anxious to see you , though."

Mundungus frowned. "I think I left something back down the alley. D'you mind if I just slip back out and get it?"

He was gone before Treasa had a chance to respond. With a faint smile at the thought of Mundungus daring to face up to Sirius alone, she turned toward the basement door.

Severus was rifling through the bottles on the far wall. He spun around at the sound of her footstep, fingers closing around a vial of Strengthening Solution.

"What in Merlin's beard?"

He seemed startled, a fact that surprised her more than his snooping. She took a closer look. In the few days since she'd last seen him, his face had become drawn and greyer than usual. His robes were rumpled, and his hands stained with ink and various hues of juice. Something had happened.

"Why is it that you've so much Strengthening Solution and only two vials of Blood-Replenisher?" Severus snapped, tossing the vial at her contemptuously. "Dumbledore asked me to check your stores in case anything was needed –"

"Like fun he did," Treasa interrupted, snatching the vial from the air instinctively. Perhaps irritation sharpened her reflexes.

Severus kept speaking as if she hadn't interrupted. His gaze wandered over the shelves, looking anywhere but at her."- and I find it woefully lacking. This isn't a potion collection for St. Mungo's Incurable ward, you know. We're preparing for battle, not a rest home."

Treasa eyed him for a moment, then chose the direct route. "What's happened, Severus? Are you injured? Has You-Know-Who done something…"

Severus snorted. "No, and we can all be thankful for that, because with these potions, any victims would die, unless the Dark Lord chose to cast some muscle-wasting spell."

Treasa stalked to the cabinet lining the left wall of the room and tapped it with her wand, murmuring the password to the lock on its handles. The shelves inside were lined two rows deep with bottles. "I've been through the entire St. Mungo's potionbook – even the specialty anti-venoms we created for known poisoners. I've got two bottles of Spattergroit vaccine, for Merlin's sake. Now are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Severus strode over to glare down his nose at the bottles. "I told you. Dumbledore told me to be sure you were fulfilling your duties now that you have better access to your potions laboratory. He seemed concerned you might lose focus, considering the company you find yourself in."

"Well, seeing as how you told him our little secret, that shouldn't concern him any longer."

"It is not for me to tell Dumbledore what should or should not concern him," Severus said coolly, settling his robes across his shoulders. "Now I know you've adequately prepared, I can report as much to him."

The dismissive gesture was so familiar that Treasa half-drew back, stung. When Severus made to stride past her, however, she stood her ground.

"Something's worrying you, Severus. I want to know what it is."

His lip curled. "You're better off not knowing – the lot of you."

It was a foolishly unguarded thing to say, and she could tell he realized his mistake. She searched his face again, looking for any signs of physical injury or illness. Nothing presented itself except the dark smudges under his eyes that were standard fare for Severus.

"Something's keeping you from your sleep. Is it that Umbridge woman?" Treasa asked, keeping her voice clinical. "Sirius and Remus have told me enough about her to make me think she could make anyone sick."

His laugh was harsh, but not entirely mirthless. "If you insist on creating imaginary maladies for me, by all means, assign Umbridge as the culprit. Though while you're at it, you should blame Potter, Black, and Dumbledore, too. Their contributions shouldn't be overlooked. It might lead to a misdiagnosis."

She blinked. That acerbic wit had once been commonplace – back when they were no more than teenagers and she had deluded herself into thinking his flashes of non-hostility meant there was a chance at a non-combative relationship.

Severus took advantage of her momentary distraction to step around her to the stairwell. He spoke without turning his head. "Dumbledore insisted we all come to this meeting. I imagine you wouldn't want Black to find us alone down here, so perhaps we should rejoin the others."

Even his jab about Sirius was lacking its usual venom. Whatever had Severus so engrossed, she doubted very much it meant anything good.

Severus and Treasa paused in the hall outside the kitchen. Dumbledore had arrived, and Mundungus mysteriously re-appeared, sitting close to Dumbledore on the opposite side from Sirius, his shifty eyes darting at Black as if he expected physical injury. Despite the obvious stress in his appearance, Dung was managing to tell the story in his typical jocular fashion.

"And then Granger gets up, she does, and says they're all there so's Harry can teach them about Defense Against the Dark Arts, only Harry looks like he's ready to turn tail and run."

Severus touched her sleeve and motioned interrogatively toward the doorway. She nodded him forward, stepping back a step to allow him time to find a seat before entering herself. She'd spotted a seat next to Molly and had barely settled in when Molly grabbed her arm and leaned over for a tense whisper.

"The children are trying to go against Umbridge. What are they thinking? Do they realize what it would mean if they were expelled? And Ron so close to his OWLs – if he doesn't get a chance to take them, he'll end up being a stock boy in Florian Fortesque's his whole life."

Bill leaned in from her other side and grinned, "I think Ron wouldn't mind that too much."

"So then they all signs the paper," Mundungus concluded. "And I reckon if Umbridge is half as keen as she is ugly, she'll know about it before they ever get to meet."

"Dumbledore, you have to tell them to stop!" Molly insisted immediately. "You're the headmaster, they'll listen to you."

Dumbledore was sitting back in his chair, fingers steepled, considering. Minerva spoke up from further down the table.

"Much as I commend Hermione Granger's resourcefulness, in this instance – don't you think it would be dangerous to let them proceed, Albus?"

"We do have a war going on, do we not?" It was Hestia Jones, who was leaning forward, elbows braced on the table. "I, for one, would rather the children learned to defend themselves in case You-Know-Who comes calling."

Kingsley countered. "And if they are expelled, You-Know-Who has a clearer shot at them. Even he wouldn't dare attack Hogwarts, but we know he can and will attack individual families."

The talk continued around the table. It seemed the Order was split almost equally on the subject – though the louder contingent was definitely on the side of allowing the children to continue. Treasa eyed Sirius, who was positively jovial in his relief and was pronouncing his firm support of their plan.

"It's exactly the sort of thing James and I would have done in this situation."

"You two would have found some more glamorous style of rebellion that _would_ have gotten you expelled if you were in this situation," Minerva said tartly.

Sirius merely shrugged and chuckled. Molly _tsked_, turning to Treasa, Bill and Arthur for support. Arthur put his arm around her and whispered in her ear. Treasa considered for a moment, then leaned forward toward the center of the group.

"The main issue here is secrecy, correct? None of us would worry about them simply practicing defensive magic if we weren't concerned about the Ministry's reaction." There was a murmur of assent. "So if they find a secret place to practice, there's nothing for us to do but keep their secret. If they can't find a place, then the problem will resolve itself."

Molly seemed ready to protest, but Dumbledore was nodding. "We will do nothing at present. They are within their rights to form, and within their rights to practice defensive magic outside of class."

"But if Dolores Umbridge finds out –" Molly croaked.

"Then the staff at Hogwarts will take action as we see fit," Dumbledore said kindly. "You've always put your trust in us before, Molly." She pursed her lips, but Dumbledore continued without allowing more discussion. "Hestia, I believe you said you have a report to give."

Hestia nodded, pulling out a short piece of parchment with scrawlings on it. "I've been tailing Dorian Avery for the last two weeks, and he is definitely recruiting people in Knockturn Alley. He's also been quite interested in people who have access to the Department of Mysteries, so we need to keep our guard there strong. He's been talking to the families of several Unspeakables – Bode, Ganfield, Tarantine. I think he's looking for things he can use as leverage to get them to break into the department for him. Oh-" her pink cheeks flushed deeper rose. "And I think he might have noticed me last week."

The reaction around the table was immediate. Kingsley and Tonks both leaned forward to question Hestia. The murmur of frightened voices made individual questions hard to distinguish. Treasa, however, was looking for Severus. He was sitting in the corner, his face half-hidden in the shadows cast by the candle in the wall sconce above him. He would have more information to give on this than any of them.

Dumbledore apparently had the same idea. "Severus, have you heard of any plans against Hestia?"

"Avery hasn't said anything to me about it."

Hestia practically collapsed in relief. "I've been so anxious!"

She seemed about to wave away Kingsley and Tonks' suggestions, when Severus spoke again.

"Whether or not he has said anything to me is no indication of your safety. The Death Eaters are aware of the Order and are doing their best to track Order members down, just as you are attempting to do with them. Don't be fooled into thinking any one of you is truly safe."

The dark mood remained for the rest of the meeting, which was brief. Kingsley announced that the Floo Network was instating rolling checks – ostensibly to lower illegal usage of the network, but both he and Tonks thought it more likely Fudge was trying to catch Dumbledore and his associates in something that could be brought before the Wizengamot.

"I have a contact in the network who told me he will keep me apprised of the schedule so we can try to use it when it's safe," Kingsley concluded. "But I know they wanted to begin tonight, so those who came by Floo should choose a different method of getting home. We don't want this location showing up on any network logs."

The members left in pairs and trios, making plans for escorting one another home to ensure no one made the journey alone. Severus and Minerva went with Hestia and Emmeline, who had come alone; Kingsley and Tonks escorted Dedalus before returning to the Auror office. Molly refused to leave to relieve Mad-Eye of guard duty until Sirius promised to relay her displeasure to Ron, Harry and Hermione when next they spoke.

The inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place fell into an uneasy rhythm over the following days. Sirius was thrilled that Harry was doing something proactive, but more and more fell into dreary fits as he compared it to his own inactivity. Remus, on the other hand, spent most of his time planning for his monthly trip away from the house. He tried to contact different packs of werewolves in rotation, talking to them in the hours before the transformation, leading them farther away from humans to try and protect intended victims. Treasa did not envy him his job, but found a certain kinship with Sirius when it came to jealousy of his activity. Her main concern was for the well-being of the Order members who were actively tailing Death Eaters. Hestia Jones made a point of stopping by headquarters with a report every few days, and the others checked in at least once a week. For a mediwitch, it was a savage waiting game.

Halloween was fast approaching, and Treasa was intent on doing her part to ease some of the tension for them all. She'd given Tonks the job of inviting as many of the Order as she could to a Halloween dinner at headquarters, and so far most of the non-Hogwarts contingent of the Order seemed to be planning on attending. The professors, of course, would be at the Hogwarts banquet, a fact that had considerably warmed Sirius to the idea. Tonks, too, seemed inordinately excited about the party, dropping by almost daily with updates on who was attending and bringing supplies from Diagon Alley.

"Molly says she'll come tomorrow just after lunch to help with the cooking," Tonks informed Treasa on October 30th, edging through the door with a tottering pile of boxes from Honeyduke's and Madam Malkin's.

Treasa nudged the door closed as she reached for a few of the boxes, but Remus appeared at her shoulder, lifting half the pile from Tonks' arms. Pink suffused the Auror's cheeks, but she turned quickly to Treasa, focusing for a moment before transforming her features into an almost frighteningly accurate rendition of Mrs. Black.

"I thought I'd let the others pick over what Madam Malkin sent for costumes," she said. "I think I've got mine picked out."

Treasa eyed her for a moment, casting a swift glance at Remus, who had paused on his way to the dining room at the mention of a costume. He was chuckling, but gave no indication he would come back to talk to Tonks, just as she gave no indication her morphing features had been to hide a blush. Had Treasa imagined it?

"Not the most fetching concept," she said, loudly enough for Remus to hear. "But I think you could make even our dear Mrs. Black pleasant to –"

There was a pounding knock on the door, which swung inward with the force of the blows. The real Mrs. Black set up a wail as Tonks' features melted back to normal and she whipped around, wand at the ready. Emmeline Vance stood on the stoop, supporting the limp body of Hestia Jones.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

"Lay her down on the settee," Treasa commanded in the ringing tone she'd developed for medical crises.

Tonks and Lupin, who had taken Hestia from Emmeline, complied as Treasa opened the drawing room curtains to let in some of the mid-afternoon sunshine. Hestia's skin was pearlescent blue with a sheen of sweat. Her eyes had rolled back and her breathing was a horribly labored gasp. Treasa waved her wand to begin the diagnostic spells, noting vaguely that Mrs. Black's noise had subsided. Sirius must have dealt with her. Emmeline cringed by the doorway, her hair falling from its elegant knot, her face as pale as Hestia's.

"What happened?" Treasa rapped out, noting the lack of bleeding wounds and moving on to internal checks. Sirius appeared in the doorway.

"She drank this," Emmeline took a vial from inside her robes, fumbling it precariously.

"Sirius," Treasa jerked her head toward the bottle, still focusing on Hestia. "Poison, then?"

"But it's just tea!" Emmeline protested as she gave it to him. "She made a kettle for us, poured it out, and said she'd need to taste it first because it was an old package of tea."

"Did you drink any?" Treasa asked, sparing her a cursory glance.

"No, she took a sip and said it tasted odd – said I shouldn't drink it at all and she'd make another batch from a different package. I heard her retching in the kitchen, and by the time I got there, she looked like this."

Treasa nodded. "Sirius , check what's in that tea. Tonks, take Emmeline to the kitchen and the two of you get lots of water. Hestia's going to need to drink as much as she can."

The two other women left the room. Remus conjured a shallow bowl that Sirius dumped the contents of the vial into. "Specialis Revelio," he intoned.

"Well?" Treasa snapped, propping Hestia up slightly to aid in breathing.

"Looks like asphodel, boomslang venom, castor beans," Sirius rattled off, jabbing his wand at the magically separated elements of the liquid. "And what appears to be concentrated scurvy-grass."

"Which would explain the fever," Treasa muttered to herself. "Alright, Remus, go to the kitchen and tell them to make some of that water into ice. Sirius you stay here and make sure she's able to breathe. If it gets any harder for her, call me immediately."

Before Sirius had time even to nod, Treasa had grabbed the bowl and strode out the door, moving with as much speed as she dared. It seemed incredible, but she had to be sure.

In her potions laboratory, Treasa pulled out the St. Mungo's potion manual she'd brought from her flat. There, on the fourth-to-last page, was a cocktail of poisons exactly matching Sirius' list. She spun on her heel and opened the potions cabinet, pulling a bottle from the bottom right corner. A specialized antidote for a specialty poison – one she just happened to have brewed an antidote for. The coincidence was too staggering.

She turned back to the open book, her eyes flying down the page to the notation at the bottom.

"Created after 10 identical poisonings in 1978, possible work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or his followers."

_Severus._


	22. Chapter 21, Part 1

**Author's Note:** This is the first half of the chapter. More to come tonight or tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled. Have a lot of errands to run tonight, so I couldn't get it all typed and edited. Enjoy!

* * *

"How did the poison get into her tea?"

"Diagon Alley?"

"Surely they didn't poison an entire shipment –"

"We would've heard about a rash of poison deaths, don't you think, Emmeline?"

"So we're assuming someone broke into her house and planted the poison in her cupboard?"

"If the person had knowledge of her protective enchantments and how to break them, it's possible."

Severus listened to the babble around him with an impassive face. The Order meeting had been called as soon as Hestia was strong enough to attend, which meant a late night trip away from the castle without alerting Dolores Umbridge. He stifled a yawn, wondering if Albus would forgive him if he nodded off in the middle of the talk. He knew well that Albus was expecting him to give information on what had happened and fully intended to disappoint him. He was on thin enough ice with the Dark Lord, he didn't need anything else weighing on his mind when next he spoke with his master. The displeasure at the failed poisoning would be more than enough to endure.

"Severus, have you learned anything more about this incident?"

It was Minerva who asked, rather startling Severus with the calm in her voice. He'd braced himself for the inevitable accusations that would be flung his way.

"I haven't been summoned to the Dark Lord since the poisoning occurred, and it would be unwise for me to appear without his call." Severus recited the words he had chosen as his cover.

Minerva nodded in satisfaction and the speculation began again. Severus felt his lip curl. Sometimes the ease with which he manipulated these people was tiresome. It took only a carefully selected phrase for the entire Order to decide he truly had no information.

Well, not the entire Order. Albus was giving him a sternly appraising look, but Severus had borne worse. The only other person who was still looking at him was Treasa. The look in her hazel eyes was unsettling. It took several moments of covert glances for him to ascertain why. It was a foreign expression to him, equal parts interest and determination and another emotion he couldn't quite put a name to. It held none of the bitter heat he had come to expect from her, but its intensity was arresting. She caught his glance the last time and looked away, fastening her attention on the current debate between Lupin and Dedalus Diggle about questioning Diagon Alley merchants. The color rose slightly in her cheeks. Severus narrowed his eyes. She was no schoolgirl – a flush in her cheek was an indicator of some strong emotion indeed. He waited for her to look round again. It took only seconds for the focus on Lupin to falter and her eyes to shift slowly back to him. When she met his gaze, the flush deepened. Then she did something he thought never to see her do.

She smiled.

It was a tiny, fleeting thing, no more than a spasm of her lips, but it had been there, and she had been looking at him. In his experience… well, he had rarely seen her smile at all, so his experience had little bearing here. Still, there had been something knowing in that smile, something akin to smugness. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly at her, and was rewarded by an equally miniscule tilt of her chin. She was inviting the scrutiny. She wanted to talk.

As soon as Dumbledore officially ended the meeting, Severus stood and edged his way toward the door. He was never one to stay and chat with any of them, and he had no intention of drawing attention by hanging about waiting for Treasa. If she wanted to speak to him, she could just as well seek him out.

"Professor."

Her voice in his left ear was startling. He pivoted on his heel and found her already a step outside the kitchen door. He parted his lips to speak, but she shook her head and cut a glance at the others. They were all engrossed in conversations around the table. Most had yet to move from beside their chairs. He nodded and followed her down the hallway.

As he had anticipated, they wound up in the potions laboratory. Treasa held the door ajar as he entered, then took her time closing it. Severus didn't bother breaking the silence. He perused the bottles lined neatly on the shelves, noting that she seemed to be running low on ginger root and salamander blood. Surely by now she had found a way around her imprisonment and was able to replenish –

"You are a strange man, Severus Snape."

He turned to her, his face impassive. "Perhaps."

Her eyes were searching his, but he had already fortified his mind. The look on her face told him she knew the attempt was futile. The frown worrying her brow was almost regretful. It wasn't an expression he intended to indulge.

"What was it you wished to speak to me about? I have essays to mark before tomorrow's classes."

"You poisoned her." Treasa's chin was high, her eyes steady as she uttered the accusation. Breaking the eye contact, she moved into the room, measuring each step with the same slow intensity of her words. "You brewed a cocktail of poisons you've used before, Transfigured it into a powder and slipped it into Hestia's tea tin. I'd guess you sneaked past her protective enchantments that very morning."

Severus didn't bother responding as she paused, though he did have to remind himself to blink.

"I know that Hestia had been getting too close to Avery for comfort, and I can guess that you were ordered to do something about, permanently. I can also guess that Avery would have preferred the assignment. From what I recall of the man, bloodshed is a bit of a hobby with him."

"If you know all this, I wonder why you bothered dragging me down here to tell me," Severus said coldly. It was uncanny how perceptive this witch could be when she chose.

"Because of what I don't know." Treasa had reached the table of cauldrons and stood staring into the empty one nearest her. Her fingers traced the lip at the top as she turned again to face him, eyes fairly gleaming.

"And that is?"

"Why."

The brevity of the statement caught him off-guard. Before he could countermand the action, he half-opened his mouth to answer. Rather fortunately for him, she didn't give him the chance.

"Why didn't you let Avery handle it? Why did you trust to such an unreliable medium as tea to ensure that she drank enough to kill her and didn't accidentally get to the wrong victim?" Her hand left the cauldron and came up to gesture toward the cabinet. "Why did you pick a poison you knew full well I had prepared an antidote for if your true objective was murder?"

"Intriguing questions, all," Severus retorted with what he hoped was his usual haughty tone. "But you're operating under the assumption that I am the poisoner, and that I would admit to it even if I were."

"In short," Treasa continued, ignoring his interruption, "why would a man as clever as you are handle the situation in such a bumbling way that practically ensures his failure?"

Severus attempted to look bored, but had the most unsettling feeling that he wasn't succeeding. "You assume a great deal in your questions."

She shook her head. "You think I don't remember how it once was? When I lived in your house, you could have poisoned half the Order and not left the slightest hint it was you behind it. Which brings me back to my original question. _Why_?"

"Are we working on the presumption that I am faithful to the Dark Lord or to the Order?" Severus asked, scrambling to push aside the memories she'd conjured for him.

"I don't know."

He froze at the quiet words. Treasa was staring at him, the frown still etching wrinkles in her forehead. She was telling the truth, that much was certain. What was uncertain was whether he was willing to do the same. Instinctively, he fell back on his usual defenses.

"A Ravenclaw admitting ignorance?" He sneered.

Treasa pulled back a fraction, as he had intended. Sarcasm had the advantage of disengaging an opponent with minimal effort. But she leaned forward again almost instantly, negating the advantage he had just won.

"Only a fool claims to know all," she said, that knowing smile tugging at her lips again. "But then, I imagine you're familiar with that concept. Here's what I think: I think that maybe, just maybe, you're more Dumbledore's man than I wish to think you. It'd be so much more convenient to loathe you and call it principle, but it looks as if I can't do that any longer."

"Why not?" Severus allowed himself a dry, bitter chuckle. "You're hardly the first."

"Because I can remember only one other time when you purposefully failed a mission for the Dark Lord."

The memory of that night seared through him with such force it took his breath away. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating. It took physical effort to push it back before any of the images solidified, and it was with an all-too-physical shudder that he opened his eyes and met Treasa's once more.

She nodded. "I thought as much. It's about _her_, isn't it?"


	23. Dear Readers

Dear readers,

I realize I haven't updated in months, and that most of you have stopped reading. I've kind of written myself into a corner, and with life being as busy as it is, I haven't had time to think my way out of it.

But over the next two weeks, a friend of mine and I are going to through and do a Fidelius overhaul – nail down specifics on the characters, really tighten the plot, and hopefully fix the things that have been dragging it down. This means that a lot of what has been written will have to go. In fact, I will probably have to start a new story in order to keep things clear.

What I want to hear from you is if there is anything in particular you like about the story thus far – a moment, a sentence, things like that. Right now it looks like we might be rewriting everything, so if you're attached to a moment, I want to know.

Thanks for sticking with me thus far! You have all been wonderful, and I couldn't have come this far without your encouragement. I hope you like my new effort just as much, and hopefully even more now that I have more experience as a writer and a friend who will help me smooth out the rough parts and make sure everything fits together as it should.

CreativeWords


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